The Child Under the Football Field
by skittletree93
Summary: The remains of a child are found by a group of pranksters at an opposing school's football field.  When it becomes clear that it is a threat to Brennan and her team, they realize they must band together to catch this maniac-before someone ends up dead.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, guys. I'm new to FanFiction. Well, not new to reading it, but certainly new to writing it. Although it would have made more sense to start off with a oneshot or drabble just to figure out the lay of the land, this particular idea attacked me with a viciousness that I could hardly ignore. I sincerely hope everyone enjoys it. The story begins just after The Doctor in the Photo (spoiler alert) and carries on from there. It will not go along with whatever happens in future episodes. Also, just a heads up: although I am deeply troubled by the way Booth has been acting this season, I am forced to portray him as his less-desirable-terribly-disappointing-Season-6 self because it would simply make no sense for him to magically transform into his old self without any viable reason. Do not worry, he will return to the Land of the Squints as time goes on. And as for you who hate Hannah with a raging passion: she won't stick around forever. I don't appreciate her presence in Bones either and I am a B&B supporter all the way. For the purposes of this story, I need to keep her for at least a little while, but I will think of a fun way to eliminate her. I am open to suggestions for that, by the way. (:

-Lauren

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. I wish I did because that would make me brilliantly witty and intelligent... Maybe one day.

B&B

It was eleven o'clock at night and the park was deserted but for two nearly invisible figures standing deep within the shadows underneath the jungle gym. Their voices were stolen by the whispering of the wind; the sounds of their feet disturbing the wood chip-covered ground were silenced by whipping branches of the surrounding trees. Absolutely no one would ever know that they were there or why they came.

"What have you got?" drawled a man in a bored but authoritative tone.

"I'm still gathering information," murmured a smaller voice. "We're getting close."

"Did you complete the assignment I delegated to you?" questioned the man.

"I did."

"Good. I will send you a message within the next week and we shall meet again."

"How come you can't just call me?" blurted the softer voice, seemingly before it could stop itself. The owner of the voice's eyes widened in fear as the other man drew himself up to his full height and loomed over his underling.

"Because I said so."

"O-okay," agreed the timid voice instantly, clearly trying to make amends for contradicting the boss.

"If we were to contact each other, our relationship could be traced. I need you where you are, Moth. You are right in the thick of things, a direct observer. Your position behind enemy lines is extremely important. We can't let _anything_ give you away. Do you understand me?"

Moth nodded bashfully, contritely.

"_Good._ Now get out of here. We don't want to draw suspicion."

With a final nod, Moth tiptoed out from under the jungle gym, glancing around to make sure that no one was watching. Once certain that no one was there, Moth quietly dashed to a car semi-hidden behind a bush, climbed in, and zoomed away.

B&B

Booth sat slouched in his living room chair, brow crinkled and posture defeated. Hannah was not home from work yet and he was glad she wasn't there to witness him breaking down. The gargantuan flood of emotions threatening to drown him was sending him into a near catatonic state and he was struggling to keep his head above the water.

"Damn it, Bones!" he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Among the feelings raging inside him, fury, sadness, and repressed hope were forefront in his mind along with an emotion he couldn't exactly name but made him really want to roll his eyes. _Really? _Now_ she wants me?_ He sighed, trying desperately to rid himself of the one feeling that was most unnerving to him: the overwhelming sense of loss. He rubbed his chest and stomach constantly, battling the strange sensation that his insides had evaporated. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but experience that panicked feeling that he had made the wrong decision and now it was too late.

"Damn it," he said again, louder this time, banging his fist on the arm of the chair. "Why?" he whimpered, dropping his head into his hands in anguish just as the lock turned in his front door.

"Seeley?" Hannah called, sounding relaxed and almost cheery. "Where are you, babe?"

"I'm in here," he grunted in response, unable to conjure the energy to stand and greet his girlfriend properly.

"What's the matter, baby?" asked Hannah in a concerned tone, dropping her things and seating herself in his lap, her arms wrapping around her neck. "Did you have a bad day?"

"You could say that," he replied with a wry smile.

"Maybe I could help fix it…" she offered, rubbing her hand enticingly against his thigh, expecting an enthusiastic response.

"Sorry, not tonight, Hannah," answered Booth, glancing up at her apologetically.

"Oh, God. It's not Temperance, is it? I know that case you were working on really upset her. Is she alright?"

Booth smiled at his girlfriend's concern and put his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter to him. "She's going to be fine, Hannah. She's—"

"She's in love with you," Hannah stated simply as Booth's mouth gaped open.

"Um…uh…"

"Come on, you can't deny it. I've seen the way she looks at you, the way she looks at me," interjected Hannah gently.

"How does she look at you?" asked Booth curiously.

"Like…I don't know, like she wishes she were lucky enough to be me. Like she wants to have the position that I hold in your life but cares too much about you to make mention of it," explained Hannah patiently.

"This is…kind of a weird conversation to be having with my girlfriend," admitted Booth with a humorless chuckle.

"Look, I know you love me. She's just your partner. You don't have to worry about anything, I trust you." She beamed down at him and he smiled vaguely back up at her, but something about her words set him on edge.

"I need to make sure someone checks on her," sighed Booth, reaching for his phone laboriously.

"I could," Hannah volunteered, her eyes bright.

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea, baby," Booth said, shaking his head. "She needs Angela or someone. I think I'll call her."

"Okay. I'll go make some sandwiches or something."

"Thanks, babe." He flicked open his phone and went to speed dial Angela, but before he could do so, an incoming call set his phone ringing. "Hello?" he answered with another sigh, his heart sinking, knowing he wasn't going to like what he heard.

B&B

Angela twiddled her thumbs impatiently against the steering wheel as she sat waiting at a red light.

"Come on, come on," she muttered to herself, foot itching to just slam against the accelerator, to hell with the consequences. Her best friend needed her, damn it.

The light finally flashed green and Angela's car roared to life, racing down the road to reach her friend. As she drove, her mind drifted to the phone conversation she had had with Brennan just over an hour earlier.

"_Brennan, sweetie? Are you there?"_

"_Yes, Ange."_

"_Bren? Are you crying?"_

"_No! Why are you calling? Did Booth call you?"_

"_No…why? Bren, what's going on?"_

"_Nothing, I'm perfectly fine. You don't have to worry about me." Sniffle. "I've gotta go."_

"_No, Temperance Brennan, you tell me what's the matter right now!"_

"_I've gotta go." Click._

Angela had paced her office for a full half hour, debating whether or not to go check on Brennan. On the one hand, she really wanted to make sure that her best friend was doing okay. She hadn't been there for her as much lately, feeling a little bit left behind at her decision to travel halfway across the country to examine bones, and wanted to make up for that lack of attention she was paying to her. On the other hand, she knew that Brennan was sometimes best left alone to work through her own problems and outside help only made things worse. And one thing was fore sure, Angela did not want to become subject to the Wrath of Brennan.

Finally, she had decided that she had given Brennan enough time to herself and it was time that she had some help from her best friend. Angela had hopped into her car immediately and took off for her friend's apartment.

Angela slid haphazardly into a parking spot as close to the front doors as possible and took off for Brennan's apartment building at a sprint, anxious to check on her friend. She huffed impatiently when the wind pushed against the door to the building, making it nearly impossible to open, and yanked it with all of her weight until it allowed her passage. She strode swiftly to the elevator and pressed the up button, but it took too long, so with a scowl and a glare, Angela took off for the stairs, taking them three at a time. Finally, she was staring at the door to her best friend's apartment.

"Brennan!" she shouted, beating on the door with her fist. "Brennan, it's me. And you're going to open this door."

"Go away, Angela," came her voice from within and Angela huffed frustratedly.

"Hey! You open this door right now!" demanded Angela, slapping her open hand against the closed door. "If you don't, I'm going to break in."

Without any warning, the sound of a chain scraping interrupting Angela's yelling and the door swung open, revealing a very agitated Brennan.

"What do you want, Ange?"

"Hi, sweetie," Angela smiled sweetly, shouldering her way into the apartment. "I just came to check on you, see how you were doing."

"I'm doing fine, Ange. I wish you hadn't come."

Angela glanced up at her best friend with a wounded expression on her face. As was typical, Brennan didn't even notice the look Angela sent her, but she did seem to regret her words the second she said them.

"Look, I'm sorry Angela. I don't mean to snap at you, but I've had a fairly stressful day and I just need some time to myself," explained Brennan in a much calmer, controlled voice.

"Yeah, you've had a pretty stressful week, actually. That's why I wanted to talk to you, make sure you were okay. I noticed that the Lauren Eames case hit you kinda hard…"

"I'm fine now," insisted Brennan, plopping down onto the couch in a hopeless kind of way. Angela noticed the dejected expression crossing Brennan's face and reached a hand out to touch Brennan's arm.

"Bren, honey, you need to talk to me. I know you don't believe in psychology, but I'm your best friend and I am here to listen to you rant and rave and cry about the things that make you feel bad. When someone or something messes with your objectivity and rational thinking, that's what I'm here for. To put it back into perspective for you and to make you feel better." Angela smiled understandingly at her, kind brown eyes holding closed-off blue ones.

"Why?" whispered Brennan, looking away.

"Well because I love you, Brennan. You're my best friend."

"But…you have Hodgins now. You're pregnant, you're starting your own family. You don't need me," sighed Brennan, rubbing her face tiredly.

"Of course I need you," scoffed Angela. "And more importantly, you need me. I don't care how many kids me and Hodgins have, you're stuck with me." She grinned cheekily and Brennan had to laugh.

"Bren, why were you crying?" asked Angela softly, glancing imploringly up at Brennan.

"What? I wasn't crying…"

"Yeah. You were. There's a pile of tissues on the floor beside you and all of the makeup that is actually still on your face is smudged."

"Oh," sighed Brennan, leaning her head against the back of the couch. "I don't think I want to talk about it."

"Well too bad. Tell me."

"It's embarrassing," whined Brennan and Angela gave her a look. "Fine. Just…God, Ange, it hurts so much. I'd much rather just forget it ever happened." Her voice broke and Angela's heart went out to her. She didn't say anything, but waited patiently for her friend to tell her story.

"I told him," Brennan blurted, looking anxiously at Angela, who stared uncomprehendingly at her.

"You're going to have to give me a little more than that, sweetie."

"Booth. I told Booth."

"Told Booth…what?"

"I told him…how I feel."

"And how do you feel?" prodded Angela, her eyebrows flying up to meet her hairline. She hardly dared believe what Brennan was trying to tell her. It was so out of character for her best friend that she couldn't even imagine it being true.

_The rain dove through the air, dancing against the ground and battering against the solitary woman standing silently in the middle of the deserted road. Her hair and clothing were drenched and droplets of water skidded down her face in rivulets, looking almost like tears. One hand tightened into a fist, crumpling up a forgotten slip of paper. As she knelt down, determination and sadness shining in her eyes, she felt her breath catch in her chest at the sight of the broken-off headlight lying abandoned in the center of the road. She nodded to herself, mouth slightly agape, tracing the edges of the dirt-smudged piece with one delicate finger as if to ascertain whether or not it was really there. She exhaled softly and blinked against the rain dripping from her bangs, trying her hardest not to think. Her eyes fluttered shut against the confusion and chaos erupting in her brain._

_She didn't hear the sounds of a car approaching over the beating of the rain and the sudden brightness behind her closed eyelids did not register right away. When she finally did open her eyes to see a car careening towards her, her shock stole her ability to move and she knelt frozen on the cold, wet earth, waiting with wide eyes for Lauren Eames' fate to become her own. _It's ironic_, she thought, _dying this way. Perfect somehow_._

_Out of nowhere, a strong pair of hands pulled her roughly out of the way, practically dragging her across the pavement. _Booth?_ For all the thoughts that had been assaulting her mind just moments before, her brain was numbingly quiet as she caught her breath, gathering her surroundings once again._

"_Bones? What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding slightly out of breath. She wondered if it was out of exertion from running to save her or out of relief that she was no longer in immediate danger._

"_What are _you_ doing?" she demanded._

"_I don't know, following you to a bad part of town and saving your life. You know, the usual. Your turn!" he responded and she thought he was probably being sarcastic._

"_Lauren came to Woodland to beg the family of a brain dead boy to give his heart to Sam Dworsky," she explained._

"_Oh." Booth turned slightly, looking like he always did when he was struggling to understand and failing utterly. "So, what? They—they were the ones that killed her?"_

"_No, Booth," she replied, almost laughing at the lost expression on his face and the way that he pretended like he knew just what was going on. "No. When Lauren was really disappointed or upset, it's like Sweets said, she couldn't handle the intense emotions so she'd do something dangerous."_

"_Right, like coming here in the middle of the night," answered Booth, staring at her._

_She shifted self-consciously from one foot to the other, realizing what Booth might be getting at. "I'm—not her," she stated, shaking her head, trying to assure herself as well as him. "We're—we're not the same person at all. It's just, the universe turned upside down for three days," she finished, becoming increasingly confident with each word she spoke. _She wasn't her.

_Booth gazed at her bemusedly for a moment before continuing. "What happened to her?"_

"_She bought the heroin. For the danger of it. To _feel_ something. She put it in her pocket. She got hit by a car. Just like I almost did. The impact explains the defensive wounds. She struck her head over there." She waved in the direction of the broken-off piece as she spoke and Booth glanced toward it but almost immediately back at her._

"_So it was the _driver_ that buried her in the park." It wasn't a question but she responded anyway._

"_I can't prove any of this," she admitted, shaking her head slightly, gazing beseechingly up at him._

"_I know."_

"_But you still believe me?" she asked hopefully._

"_Yeah," he chuckled, as if it were a silly question. "Of course I do. Alright, let me take you home. Come on." He took her by the arm and led her to his car._

_She took her seat quietly, organizing her thoughts. She had an idea in her head, but she wasn't sure whether to act on it or not._

"_Maybe you just need a couple days off," suggested Booth, his voice interrupting her musing, and she noticed that they were well on their way home already._

"_I'm alright now," she said, nervousness prickling at her skin as she laughed humorlessly. "Except I—I made a mistake."_

_Booth looked to her and back to the road a few times, clearly not knowing what to think. "No, I—I told you my opinion, I mean, you got it right."_

"_Not everything."_

_She leveled her gaze at him and his expression conveyed his puzzlement._

"_She died with regrets."_

"_Come on. Bones, everybody has regrets."_

_She laughed humorlessly again. "I heard her, you know? Micah says that all we get are these—" she chuckled "—dim, staticky messages from the universe."_

"_Ri—we—whose this Micah guy?"_

"_The night watchman. But he attends a lot of lectures. Anyway, the point is…she never…gave him a chance."_

"_Micah."_

"_No—no the helicopter pilot. He offered himself to her, but she never gave him a chance. That was her regret," she clarified, fear and excitement bubbling in her chest._

_Booth looked over at her, perplexed._

"_I got the signal, Booth. I don't want to have any regrets." Her voice was overflowing with trust and hope and she waited with bated breath for his answer. He looked away and she swallowed, the fear making her dizzy. She looked at him pleadingly, wishing she believed in crossing her fingers and wishing on stars and praying to God._

"_You know, I'm—I'm with someone," he began, glancing over at her as her eyes began to fill, "Bones, and, uh, Hannah—she's not a consolation prize. I love her."_

_She nodded, trying desperately, valiantly to keep it together, to stay composed, but she could feel the heat in her eyes as the tears blurred her vision. Almost immediately, she gave up, embracing the chance to feel, even if it hurt more than anything she had experienced in a long time. Her face scrunched up and her chin crinkled as she bowed her head and allowed the tears to fall, soft, heartbroken noises escaping her lips, her breath hissing between her teeth._

"_You know, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but those are the facts."_

The facts_. The words repeated over and over in her head like a mantra. _The facts. Facts, which you adore so much, which you base your life around, which are killing you right now. The facts_. It was almost cruel, his response. She felt her stomach twist and closed her eyes against the pain. She nodded, whimpering slightly, and looked up again, staring out the windshield. "I understand," she managed to say, a fat tear rolling down her cheek. "I missed my chance." Her voice broke and she laughed sadly, shaking her head slightly. "My whole world turned upside down. I can adjust."_

"_I did."_

_If she hadn't been feeling so anguished, anger would have exploded in her at that moment. As if she needed reminding that he had adjusted. It was the reason she was sitting bawling in the seat next to him, embarrassing herself._

"_Yes, you did," she agreed, sniffling slightly, laughing bitterly._

"_Do you want me to uh call someone to be with you, or…?" he asked, and she felt her heart drop as a small chuckle escaped her lips. Who could she call? The person she would normally call was the one who had hurt her. All of her other friends were busy with their own lives and didn't have the time for her drama._

"_No, I'm fine. Alone." She paused for a moment. "Thanks."_

_Booth nodded and turned his eyes to the road, silence settling upon them like a thick blanket as tears continued to stream down her face._

"Hello? Earth to Brennan…how do you feel?" Angela waved her hand in front of her best friend's face, bemused at the way she abruptly froze mid-pace, staring blindly into the corner.

"Oh!" started Brennan, flinching as she came back to reality. "S-sorry."

"I thought I'd lost you for a second there," joked Angela, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Where'd you go?"

"Angela, I was standing right here the whole time. I didn't actually go anywhere," explained Brennan in confusion.

"No—I meant…never mind," mumbled Angela, shaking her head.

"Angela, I don't want to have regrets," whispered Brennan suddenly, slumping onto the couch again.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" asked Angela.

"Lauren had regrets. That helicopter pilot—he loved her! And she just—she never gave him a chance. She was too scared or—or too stubborn. And now she'll never know what could have happened with him, how happy she could have been! I don't…want to die with the regrets that Lauren had. I told Booth…I got the signal. I finally—I understand."

"Oh my God," murmured Angela, covering her mouth with one hand. "What did he say?"

"He's with someone. And Hannah, she's not a consolation prize. He loves her."

She said it in such a way that Angela knew it was a direct quote. Suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to smack something, Angela plopped down on the couch beside Brennan, pulling her feet up under her, resting her cheek on her hand. Her own anger didn't matter at that moment, it was Brennan's feelings that were important.

"Okay. I—can't believe he said that. I'm pretty mad about that right now, but I'm here for you, to listen to what you have to say. So I'll freak out about that later, okay?" said Angela gently, nudging Brennan with her elbow.

"Yeah," agreed Brennan, trying a smile and failing.

"Oh, sweetie," frowned Angela, pulling her best friend in for a hug. "I just love you so much. And I am _so proud_ of you for telling Booth how you feel. I really am. And I could just _kill_ Booth for not being proud of you too. I think I'm going to cry," Angela sniffled.

"Don't cry, Ange," chuckled Brennan, eyes bright. "I will be fine, I promise. It will just take three days, until the world turns right side up again."

Angela had no idea what Brennan could possibly be talking about, but she just nodded as if she understood. "Well good. I'm glad you're going to be okay. Do you want me to—"

Angela's sentence was abruptly cut off by the sound of Brennan's ringing cell phone.

"Oh, God," moaned Brennan, sinking lower into the couch and covering her face with her arms. "It's him."

"No, no, this is good!" insisted Angela, grabbing the phone and pushing it towards her friend. "He's probably calling to apologize or something. Take it!" she urged, continuing to press the phone into Brennan's slack hand. "Answer the call!"

When she refused to even accept the phone into her hand, Angela flipped it open and pressed it to Brennan's ear. Brennan's jaw dropped and she glared furiously over at her best friend.

"Umm." She cleared her throat. "Hello?"

"Bones. We have a case."

"W-what?" stuttered Brennan, clutching the phone harder to her ear, clearly panicking.

"I'll pick you up in twenty. Be ready." _Click._

Brennan lifted wide eyes to her best friend. "We have a case."

"_Now?_ You have a case _now? _Oh, God."

"I don't know if I can do this, Angela," whispered Brennan, a heartbreaking expression claiming her features. "I'm not sure if I can do this right now. I mean, I just humiliated myself not three hours ago…" She took a deep, shuddering breath and covered her face again.

"I know that it is maybe a little…early to feel entirely comfortable working with him again, but he _is_ your partner. You are going to have to work with him eventually," said Angela.

"I know," mumbled Brennan, her voice muffled by her hands.

"Do you think you are going to be able to handle that? Are you going to be able to remain partners?"

Brennan's fingers parted and her azure eyes peeked through looking frightened.

"Of—of course," answered Brennan in a falsely convincing way. "I can maintain my partnership with him—right?"

B&B

That's it for the first chapter! This is kind of nerve-wracking, huh? Putting your work up for everyone in the world to see? I would love to get reviews from you guys. It is always good to hear how I did. Criticism is welcomed as long as it is constructive. Guesses on who Moth is? Suggestions for later chapters? Ideas for the elimination of Blondie?


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, guys. Here's the next chapter. I'm not entirely satisfied with it and I feel that a lot more editing could be done, but with my busy schedule, this was the best I could do. I hope you enjoy it, anyway! By the way, thank you so much for my reviews and everything. Seriously, they made my entire day. Thank you!

-Lauren

Disclaimer: Not mine.

B&B

"Look, Bren, why don't I take you down to the crime scene. You could use a little time to think this over without the subject of the question breathing down your neck the whole time," reasoned Angela, cupping Brennan's elbow in a friendly and sympathetic gesture. Brennan nodded vacantly, her brow furrowed. With a final reassuring squeeze, Angela left Brennan's side, slipping her cell phone out of her pocket and entering the kitchen.

"Booth," answered the voice on the other end of the line.

"Hey. Don't bother picking Brennan up; I'm giving her a ride to the crime scene. Give me the address."

"Hey, whoa, whoa. What do you mean, you're giving her a ride? I always drive her to the crime scene. And I'm already halfway to her apartment," protested Booth and Angela rolled her eyes.

"Okay, Booth. Do you really think that Brennan is going to be able to handle being alone with you right now? _No._ Give her a little time to settle down, sort of come to grips with what has happened between you. She needs some thinking time. And you breathing down her neck is not going to help anyone," explained Angela in the most calm, patient tone that she could manage.

"Um, what, Angela? What are you talking about?"

"Do. Not. Pretend. That you. Do not. Know. What I'm. Talking. About," growled Angela in her most threatening voice.

"She told you?" howled Booth, causing Angela to pull the phone away from her ear, eyes wide. "I can't believe…" Booth ranted, grumbling incoherently into the phone.

"_Booth,"_ interrupted Angela, clearly not interested in hearing him whine. "Would you just shut up for a second?" She waited until there was silence on the other end of the line. "Great. Now go to the crime scene. We'll meet you there." Angela ended the call before Booth could hit her with another stream of complaints. "Come on, sweetie," smiled Angela, striding into the living room once again. "Get your booty up. First, you're going to wash your face and get changed. Then, we've got a gross, disgusting crime scene to get to."

"You couldn't possibly know that the crime scene is gross and disgusting at this juncture," corrected Brennan as she allowed her friend to pull her to feet. "We have not even seen it yet."

Angela didn't respond, but grinned to herself. If Brennan was still able to correct every little detail, she was definitely going to be fine.

B&B

Brennan sat silently throughout the entire car ride. Booth had texted her the address of the crime scene and she only spoke to give Angela directions. Angela, seeming to realize that Brennan wanted some time to herself, kindly refrained from speaking to her. Instead, she turned the radio on low and hummed along to the music.

"What, the crime scene is at a _high school?_" asked Angela as she pulled toward the flashing lights, breaking the companionable silence.

"Yes," verified Brennan. "Booth will be able to tell us more about it when we arrive."

With a nod, Angela quickly parked and the pair made their way to the small crowd of people standing by the police cars.

"Excuse me," said Brennan briskly. "My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan, I work with the FBI. Can one of you please direct me to the body?"

"Uh, sure," answered a young man, staring at her in an awestruck sort of way. "Right inside the football stadium."

"Thanks," Brennan smiled vaguely, already moving towards the football field. Angela stayed behind to speak with the young officer.

"Bones!" shouted a voice. "There you are. Geez, what took you so long?" Booth took her by the arm and all but dragged her to an area on the outskirts of the field that was teeming with activity.

"What is this?" demanded Brennan in a horrified tone. "Booth, weren't you supervising these people? They are compromising my remains! Stop!" she bellowed, her face turning red as she took a step closer to the people surrounding the crime scene, hands firmly planted on her hips.

At the sound of her raised voice, activity ceased, all heads swiveling in her direction. Many faces showed fear or guilt. Most people stepped away from what they were doing.

"Take a trek!" she shouted, wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail fluttering against her cheek.

"Hike, Bones, it's take a _hike_," Booth muttered to her under his breath.

"I can't _believe_ this," she raged, stomping across the field to get a closer look at the damage that had befallen to her remains. "_Look_ at this," she whispered, gesturing towards the trodden on dirt surrounding the bones.

"Well, you know Bones, they probably wouldn't have compromised the integrity of your remains if you hadn't taken so long to get here. They probably thought you weren't coming and that it would be safe to carry on as they usually would without you here," reasoned Booth.

"What, so it's _my_ fault that this happened? Because I was late? I'm sorry, Booth, there were a few things that I had to do before I could come here tonight," snapped Brennan, narrowing her eyes at her partner. "Besides, they shouldn't treat a crime scene like this when I'm not here. That's awful."

"Something more important than a murder victim?" asked Booth, his eyebrows raised, ignoring the last part of her speech.

Brennan glared ferociously at him, her cobalt eyes almost black in her fury. "I can't believe you," she whispered.

"Yeah, you're—you're right, Bones," he apologized, looking down and shuffling his feet. "I know that it is important to you, finding the murderer. I guess I just…I don't know, I'm sorry."

Brennan nodded stiffly and bent down to examine the remains. "Male. Aged approximately eight to ten years old." Despite her irritation, she glanced up at that point to gauge Booth's reaction. He was looking at the ground, determinedly avoiding her gaze, but she could tell by his tense posture and rigid mouth that the news was affecting him. With a sigh, she continued her analysis of the bones. "Based on decomposition…" she paused, tilting her head. "We need Hodgins to ascertain an accurate time of death."

"Why?" inquired Booth.

"Well, football season is about to start, right? So there have likely been many practices over the last couple of months on this very field. Someone would have noticed a big gaping hole in the middle of it. There was probably even a practice today. So if we find out when practice ended, we can put together a time frame for the murderer to drop the body here," explained Brennan in her most cool, detached tone.

"That's great. But that still doesn't tell me why we don't have an approximation of the time of death," replied Booth wearily.

"Booth, if these remains were dropped here sometime today, that means that the body must have decomposed somewhere else. Since we don't know where the body decomposed, I can hardly make an estimate at time of death. Once Hodgins gathers particulates to establish where the body was originally buried, we can calculate time of death," rationalized Brennan, still examining the remains. "Where'd Angela go?" she asked suddenly, glancing up worriedly.

"I don't know. Oh, she's over there flirting with that cop," answered Booth, pointing to the stadium entrance.

"I wonder if that man knows that Angela is married—and pregnant," chuckled Brennan, shaking her head and clambering to her feet.

"Probably not," muttered Booth, rolling his eyes, but smiling all the same.

"So who found the body?"

Booth rolled his eyes again, but his smile faded. "Those four idiots over there," he said, pointing to a small cluster of boys talking with a pair of police officers.

"What happened?" asked Brennan, sounding intrigued.

"They thought it would be real funny to spray paint a giant 'W' on the football field."

"I don't understand," responded Brennan after a moment of confused thought.

"Bones," Booth sighed, as if her lack of understanding was tiring him out. "These boys go to the West high school. This is the Central high school. The two schools are rivals and these jokesters decided it would be clever to put their own school letter on the opposing school's football field just in time for the game tomorrow."

"_Oh,"_ nodded Brennan. "These young men sought to demonstrate their school's dominance over this school by branding—" The huge, glaring lights illuminating the football field abruptly went out, leaving the two in almost total darkness. For a few minutes, they were blinded by the blackness, and in those moments, Booth reached out and grabbed Brennan's hand. Brennan flinched, but her fingers almost instantly wrapped around his hand in return.

"Hey!" shouted Booth in his most dissatisfied tone. "What the hell happened here? Someone get these lights turned on again!"

"Brennan!" shouted Angela from only a few yards away. Booth's fingers twitched in Brennan's hand and he tried to let go, but Brennan was still holding fast. After leaving his hand slack for a moment, he finally squeezed her hand again.

"Angela, we're here," Brennan called back. Her eyes were adjusting to the blackness surrounding her and as her eyesight improved, people and objects began to materialize in front of her. She waved at the slight shadow which was Angela, hoping that her ability to see was returning too. Laughing, she watched as Angela leaned forward, seeming to squint around. "Ange, just follow my voice. We're—" Suddenly, the lights came back on again, catching all of them off-guard. Their eyes watered and squinted against the brightness, struggling to adjust.

Angela's eyes immediately flew to the partners' joined hands and her eyes narrowed. Booth promptly let go and Brennan's hand dropped to her side, her fingers brushing sadly against the material of her jeans. Angela didn't miss the look on Brennan's face when this happened; first, an expression of mixed surprise and disappointment, and then a closed-off look of impassivity, not offering up any emotions.

"Umm," stuttered Brennan, clearly awkward and uncomfortable, not in her element. "Sorry, Angela. When the lights were on, their brightness caused our pupils to shrink considerably so that we could handle all of the illumination. However, when it became dark, our shrunken pupils obscured our vision, so we had to wait until they had dilated. And since the lights came on again—"

"Thank you, Bones, we know all of this already. Enough with the science lesson."

Brennan's mouth snapped shut and she crossed her arms across her chest as if she were chilly. Angela sent Booth a reproachful look and went to put her arms around Brennan.

"I'm _fine_, Angela," she insisted, half-heartedly returning the hug. "We should really finish up with the crime scene. Actually, I'm going to—what's _that?_" exclaimed Brennan, her eyes widening as she pointed up toward the scoreboard at the far end of the field.

"Oh!" breathed Angela, glancing up at it too. "That is really not good. Booth!" she said with her voice slightly raised as he rummaged through his pockets, avoiding their eyes. Rolling her eyes, she smacked him in the back of the head, smiling to herself when he finally looked up, affronted.

"What was that for?" he groused, scowling at her.

"Pay attention, G-man. Look up at the scoreboard."

"_Whoa,_" he whispered. "That's not good."

"It's a message," supplied Brennan, her head tilted to the side.

"Yeah, I figured as much," answered Booth irritably and Angela sent him a warning glare.

"I'm going to write this down and send it to Sweets, see what he makes of it." She pulled out a pen and small pad of paper from her purse and swiftly wrote down the characters. "Alright. Well, I'm going to the lab. Angela, I'm just going to take a cab to my place so I can pick up my car. I might be at the lab a while and you wouldn't want to wait for me." She gathered up her things and headed for the football field's exit with her two friends trailing behind. "Tell the techs to send everything to the Jeffersonian _without_ destroying my evidence," she added before striding away, leaving Angela and Booth just outside the field.

B&B

Booth watched Brennan disappear into a cab and turned back to Angela, who was waiting with her arms crossed and her foot tapping, a frown adorning her face.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You know what," she returned in an accusatory voice.

"It's not my fault that she decided to take a taxi to the lab. I guess she was in a hurry." Booth shrugged and Angela's head almost exploded.

"It is your fault! Why would you hold your hand? God, sometimes I wonder what the hell is wrong with you!" hissed Angela through gritted teeth, pacing manically in front of him.

Booth flinched. "Um. I just, you know, didn't want her to get lost."

"Bullshit. Look, I'm going to the lab. I have to go check on Brennan. When you stop by to look at the evidence with us, we need to have a little chat." Angela turned on her heel and headed to where her car parked, leaving Booth standing dejected and alone in the middle of the football field.

"Whew," he said under his breath with a low whistle. "Pregnancy."

"Are you done here?" asked one of the tech guys. "We can pack it all up and ship it to the Jeffersonian if you've got everything you need," he offered and Booth nodded, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

"Yeah, you know what, that's great," agreed Booth, already moving to his SUV. He got in, started the engine, and leaned back against his seat, sighing. He knew why he had grabbed Bones' hand; it was to make sure she knew that she wasn't alone, that he was there with her. But now he saw that it was stupid. It undermined everything he had been trying to accomplish for the last year: moving on. Which he had been doing pretty well at…

With a sigh, Booth put the vehicle into drive and took off towards the Jeffersonian, knowing it was going to be a long night.

As he drove, his mind wandered. His thoughts drifted to a conversation that occurred over a year earlier. It was the day after he had told Bones that he wanted to be with her. It was the day after she had broken his heart.

"_Damn it, Sweets!" he raged, pacing violently across the room. "You told me to go after her. Why would you do that? Now…now…" He fell into a seat and dropped his head in his hands. The pain was unbearable. He had to blame someone._

"_Agent Booth…how did you tell Dr. Brennan about your feelings for her?" asked Sweets in his most professional tone, although he was terrified that Booth was going to eat him for lunch._

"_I said…I told her…that I'm the gambler. That I'm that guy and I knew from the second we met that we were meant to be with each other. I told her that she's the one I wanted to be with for the next thirty or forty or fifty years," recounted Booth sounding anguished._

"_Did you tell her exactly that, or are you editing a little bit?" inquired Sweets._

"_Well, I mean, that's mostly what I told her. For the most part. It doesn't matter, right? She rejected me. It's over." _

"_It does matter," disagreed Sweets, leaning forward so that his elbows rested against his desk and his fingers steepled together. "You can't just expect her to know that that's what you meant. You know how Dr. Brennan is; she's very literal. Unless you told her exactly how you feel, she wouldn't know any better," explained Sweets kindly._

"_Well, I—I told her," said Booth uncertainly._

"_Look, she loves you. I'm certain of that. She's just scared. When you told her thirty or forty or fifty years…that probably freaked her out. Due to her ultra-controlling personality, she probably calculates the probability of success for each relationship. If the probability of success in your relationship wasn't 100%, she wasn't about to enter the relationship, especially after you said that. For herself, because she doesn't want to lose you. She knows that if you got together and then broke up, you might not want to be partners anymore and she wants to have you in at least that capacity. For you, because she doesn't know if she can be the person you want her to be for the next three or four or five decades. Do you understand?" asked Sweets._

"_Yeah, I guess," grumbled Booth._

"_Tell me what she said after that," requested Sweets._

"_She said she couldn't change. She said that it's not her that needs protecting, it's me. That I need protecting _from_ her." Booth shook his head in blatant disbelief._

"_I rest my case," said Sweets, relaxing back in his chair and throwing his hands into the air in triumph. "What she told you shows that she was afraid for the reasons I told you."_

_Booth nodded, looking disinterested._

"_Okay, this is very important. What did you say after she said all that?" questioned Sweets, leaning forward again and directing his suddenly in tense gaze at Booth._

"_Well, I told her I had to move on," said Booth. "I told her I needed to find someone who would be here in thirty or forty or fifty years. That I needed to be happy."_

_Sweets groaned and Booth looked at him out outrage. "Booth, are you serious? You told her that? All that did was probably convince her that she was right! That she wouldn't make you happy and that you _should_ move on! Wow, you are really killing your own happiness here, dude."_

_Booth glared at him._

"_Look, sorry, sorry. So you're still partners though?"_

"_Yeah," Booth grunted._

"_Good. Good."_

A horn honked behind him and Booth realized that he was staring up at a green light.

"Shit," he muttered, pressing on the accelerator. As he passed through the intersection, his cell phone lit up and vibrated. "Damn it." He snatched it up and pressed it to his ear. "Booth."

"Booth, it's me," answered Brennan in a strangely detached voice. "Hurry up and get to the Jeffersonian."

"What? Why?"

"I decoded the message while I was sitting in the back of the cab."

"Oo-kay."

"Booth, it says that someone is targeting our team. There's a killer out there and he's out to get us."

B&B

Well, that's all she wrote...for now. I am thinking that I will continue updating one a week-earlier if possible. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Nope.

B&B

Hodgins and Brennan took turns pacing Angela's office, waiting silently for Booth to arrive. Angela herself sat blankly in a chair, seemingly lost in thought. Cam was outside supervising the crime techs as they arrived with the evidence, the interns fluttering uselessly around her and just generally making a nuisance of themselves.

"Where is Booth?" muttered Angela grouchily, dropping her cheek irritably into her hand just as Booth swept into the room.

"Sorry, what did I miss?" he asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Not much," groused Angela, glaring at him. "We've been sitting here waiting for you to arrive."

"_Sorry._ So what did the message say, Bones?" He changed the subject seamlessly, barely sparing a glance at the forensic artist.

"It was a fairly simple pattern. I was able to decode the phrase after just a few minutes."

"That's great, Bones. So what did it _say_?"

"Well, you saw it."

"I saw a big string of numbers. It didn't mean anything to me. What I'm trying to _ask_ is what it _means_."

"Have you ever heard of the Fibonacci Sequence?" Booth didn't even bother answering. "The numbers that crossed the screen on the scoreboard seemed familiar to me, but I didn't put the pieces together until a little later. The numerals were reflective of the first 26 numbers in Fibonacci's Sequence. Each number represents the corresponding letter in the alphabet. While I was on my way to my apartment, I plugged in the letters and discovered the ultimate message."

"Which was _what._"

"Look." Brennan pulled a notebook from Angela's desk toward her and whipped out a pen, jotting down a sequence of digits. "This is the original message that spanned the scoreboard."

1338989377 14446368 5159721323322584

21 258433 463683776765 83774181 14446368 61015973258432334181

834181 159730246368

4181133159732584 14437715973 4181377 13771443

83773772 896765155

02332 144046368 4181133 1325844181 1440233 1771121233

"You forgot the 'HAHAHA' at the end," pointed out Booth dully.

"I figured you didn't need my help interpreting the meaning of that," replied Brennan.

"That is a really lengthy message," piped up Hodgins, gazing down at the numbers in consternation.

"Not really. As you know, the numbers in the Fibonacci Sequence increase in digits as the sequence continues. The letters near the end of the alphabet can be up to five digits long," explained Brennan.

"How did you even remember that whole thing?" demanded Booth. "There's gotta be like a million numbers there."

"I happen to be prepared for such anomalies at a crime scene. I recorded the message using the video camera on my phone."

Booth shook his head disbelievingly, staring down at the numbers on the page uncomprehendingly.

"Brennan, I've got to tell you, I'm kind of impressed that you cracked this code," spoke Angela in an awed voice. "There are no spaces between the numbers for each individual letter. It all looks like a big jumble of digits. How did you see the pattern?"

"It wasn't difficult." She shrugged. You'll notice that many clusters of numbers are repeated consistently throughout the message. I noticed that repetition and tried to connect the numbers to a common origin. When I looked closer at the recurring numbers, I recognized them as belonging to Fibonacci's Sequence and unencrypted the message then and there. And this is what I got."

HELLO MY FRIENDS.

I SEE YOU GOT MY PRESENT.

GET READY, THERE'S MORE TO COME.

GOOD LUCK, AND MAY THE BEST MAN WIN.

"Huh. That's interesting," murmured Booth, leaning closer.

"Why?" asked Brennan, confused.

"Bones, it doesn't expressly threaten our team. How did you know that was the killer's intent?"

"Sweets said so."

"Oh really? Where is the kid?" questioned Booth, twisting around as if thinking he would find him lurking in a corner.

"At the Hoover building."

"Okay, why isn't he _here._"

"We thought it would be best to have a discussion between the four of us first," supplied Hodgins, smiling blandly.

"_Why?"_

"Sweets says that the killer is one of us," blurted Brennan, looking stricken.

"What? One of _us?_ Like one of the four of us?"

"No. Apparently the killer is a part of our team, probably someone who wasn't a part of the team originally, but infiltrated their way into our tight knit group."

"Alright, what else did he say?"

"The killer is someone close to us, someone we probably trust and rely on," explained Brennan immediately. "He is someone charismatic and friendly and easy to believe in. He is someone of average intelligence attempting to pose as someone of superior intelligence. He is cocky and overly confident, almost positive that he is going to win this game that he has evidently created.

"When I first heard about the game, my first thought was of the game Howard Epps set up for us, but Sweets assures me that this is a different type of game. Apparently, this game's ultimate goal is of survival and either we die or he does."

"Huh. How did Sweets get all that from just that little message?" asked Booth.

"I suspect that it would depend on a variety of factors, including how the message was sent, where, and—"

"Whoa, okay, thanks Bones. But didn't Sweets explain any of all this to you before telling you his findings?"

"Yes, but I am not interested in the process, I am strictly interested in the results. I did not deem an explanation as to how he arrived at his conclusions pertinent."

Booth looked upward, seemingly praying for patience. "Okay, so let's make a suspect list," decided Booth, pulling the paper toward him and jotting down names. "Let's see, all of the interns, right? _Clark, Wendell, Daisy, Fisher, Arastoo._ Am I forgetting anyone?" Everyone shook their heads. "Okay, who else?"

"Sweets wasn't specific on a time frame. He said he couldn't be sure how long the killer has been working his way into our group."

"Okay, what's your point?"

"Well, only the four of us plus Zack were a part of the original team. Anyone else is potentially suspect."

"So what are you saying?"

"Cam and Sweets have to be on the list too," frowned Brennan.

"If they're on it, then Caroline should be on it too," said Hodgins.

"No, she was involved with our team from the very first case," answered Brennan absentmindedly.

"Alright, well what about Han—"

Brennan didn't allow him the opportunity to finish his sentence, interrupting him before even Booth could. "No," she hissed vehemently, suddenly hostile. "Absolutely not. She is not on the list." She glanced at Booth, but looked away almost immediately.

"But—"

"_No._"

"Okay, okay," conceded Hodgins, raising his hands in surrender. "She's not on the list."

"Damn right, she's not," muttered Booth, glaring around threateningly.

"Whoa, wait," frowned Angela, holding up a hand. "Brennan, this is a suspect list. You know, for anyone who is a _potential_ suspect. It's nothing personal; it is just a logical noting of the people who had motive, means, or opportunity to commit the crime."

"Hannah doesn't have a motive," argued Brennan feebly.

"Neither does Cam, Sweets, or any of the interns," pointed out Angela reasonably.

"True, but Hannah isn't even part of our team. She is just our friend."

"Which means that she _is_ part of the team. You know, not officially, but as an honorary member."

"Okay…fine," agreed Brennan grudgingly. "You are correct. This list doesn't represent accusations, it just represents questions." She nodded. "That is a very reasonable argument, Angela. You may put her on the list."

"What? No!" growled Booth, slitting his eyes at them. "_Hannah is not a suspect."_

"Sorry, Booth," shrugged Angela, grabbing the paper and pen and writing her name at the bottom of the list in loopy letters. "Rules are rules."

"What about you, Bones, huh? Are you a suspect then?" demanded Booth angrily, balling his hands into fists.

"Me?" she gasped, pointing at her chest.

"Yeah, Bones. You're just as plausible as a suspect as Hannah is."

"But I am not a newcomer to the team," whispered Brennan in a hurt voice.

"So?"

"Sweets said—"

"Since when do you listen to what Sweets says?" snapped Booth.

"Dr. Brennan!" Cam's voice rang out, jolting them all from the sudden tension filling the room. "The remains are waiting for you on the examination table. Evidence is out there too, whenever you're ready. I already x-rayed his teeth and am looking for a match via dental records now."

"Thanks," called out Brennan halfheartedly. "I—I should go. Ange, I am going to put the skull back together so that you can do a facial reconstruction to discover the identity of the victim." Without a backward glance, Brennan shuffled from the room.

"Yeah, I should go take a look at that evidence. You know, particulates…" Hodgins quickly made his exit as well.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" demanded Angela, eyes sparking in her fury. Booth just glared back at her, lips pressed tightly together. "Damn it, Booth. You _know_ Brennan isn't a killer. Why would you make her think that you view her that way?"

"She was saying Hannah—"

"She was doing her job," snapped Angela. "Jesus Christ, Booth, grow up. No one is saying that Hannah did anything wrong. But you of all people should know better than to dismiss a potential suspect because of personal feelings. I am sick and tired of your relationship with—"

"My relationship with who, Angela?" growled Booth, eyes glinting dangerously.

"With Hannah, Booth. Ever since you came back with her, you've been—"

"Different? Yeah, newfound love and an extended period of time in a war zone can do that to a person," said Booth sarcastically.

"No, a complete and utter asshole was more like what I was going to say," returned Angela without batting an eye.

"Me? An asshole?" Booth scoffed, shifting guiltily from foot to foot.

"Yeah. You. An asshole."

"How do you figure?"

"_You just basically accused Brennan of being a murderer."_

"I didn't—" Angela's death glare cut him off. "Fine, I—I know she's not a murderer. I was just _upset_ is all. I don't like seeing my girlfriend's name on the suspect list!"

"That's understandable Booth, but that's no reason to take it out on Bren."

"Yeah, okay. You're—you're right."

"Of course I am," smiled Angela in a satisfied sort of way.

"Of course. Look…" Booth broke off, seeming uncertain.

"Spit it out, Booth."

"Brennan told you?" he inquired nervously.

Angela knew what he was referring to immediately and resisted rolling her eyes. "Yeah, she did, Booth."

"Why?"

"What do you mean _why_?" asked Angela, rolling her eyes. "Maybe because I'm her best friend? She has every right to talk to me about these things."

"We agreed a long time ago that what's ours is ours," persisted Booth stubbornly, crossing his arms.

Angela finally lost whatever semblance of control she still had.

"Yeah, I heard about that," growled Angela disapprovingly. "You look here, Seeley Booth. Because of this stupid little idea of yours, Brennan feels that she can't talk to me about _anything._ She thinks that if she does, she is like betraying you or something. Do you even understand how unfair that is to her?" Booth shook his head, looking like he was about to interrupt, but Angela held up a hand, silencing him. "This 'what's ours is ours' bullshit is really taking a toll on my best friend. Since _'what's yours is yours,_'" she sneered, "she feels that she can't talk to me about a lot of things. And when you upset her and she needs to talk about it with someone but can't because of your ridiculous 'what's yours is yours' concept, her resulting confusion and sadness is _your_ fault. Do you even know how much prodding it took to get her to tell me about what happened tonight? And that was nothing compared to the time a few months before you left for Afghanistan and she left for the Maluku Islands…" Angela paused to take a breath, but Booth was interrupting, incredulous.

"She told you about _that_ too?" he yelped, jumping backwards, aghast. "I can't believe this. Why would she do that?"

"?" said Angela through gritted teeth.

"Yes, yes, sure. Did she tell you everything? Did she-?"

"Booth," Angela interrupted wearily. "You are completely and totally missing the point."

"Sorry, I just didn't think she would—"

"It was a damn good thing that I happened to stop by her place that night," said Angela in the most serious of voices. "When I saw her…I mean, I was scared Booth. I had never seen her like that—never. She was a mess. And if I hadn't been there to help her, I don't know what would have happened," admitted Angela, an anxious tone creeping into her voice.

"What? Was she okay, Angela?" inquired Booth worriedly.

"Yeah, Booth. Eventually."

"Eventually?"

"Yeah. After I got her showered and fed, I sat her down on the couch and talked to her. She didn't say much, but she told me some. She couldn't—she couldn't stop crying." Angela's voice broke and her eyes welled up a little bit just thinking about it. "I've never really seen Brennan cry before. I've seen her get emotional and I've seen her shed a tear or two, but I've never… She's so compartmentalized—she just doesn't do it. But that night…she was bawling. And I couldn't get her to stop. It was like all those suppressed tears she had been holding back over the years were finally finding their way out." She shivered. "I was so scared. I didn't know what to do."

Booth stared at her, eyes wide and sad. "What about tonight?" he whispered miserably.

"She refused to cry in front of me," laughed Angela through a few stray tears. "She was still in control." She lifted her chin. "I am proud of her. And you should be too."

"I am…proud," admitted Booth, glancing downward. "I'm proud of her."

"You don't act like it," Angela deadpanned, scowling.

"Come on, Ange, it's hard for me too," whined Booth, imploring her to see his side.

"Mmmhmm. I bet it's real tough to be you."

"I loved her, Ange."

"Evidently not."

"Wha—how can you say that?"

"If you ever truly cared about her, you wouldn't be so intent on hurting her now for your own vindictive pleasure."

"That's—that's not true."

"Yeah? Then why the cruel rejection tonight, Booth? I mean, it would be one thing to gently but firmly tell Brennan that you had moved on. But you really packed a punch tonight, Booth. Why would you do that other than to get back at her for rejecting you in the first place?" Angela narrowed her eyes, daring him to contradict her.

"I didn't mean to hurt her…"

"Then why did you?"

"I didn't know."

"You know Booth, for someone who is supposed to know Brennan better than anybody else, you sure act like you've never even met her at all," said Angela in disgust, shaking her head disbelievingly.

"I—"

"Angela, I just reconstructed the skull," said Brennan, striding into the office with a skull-laden tray. "Luckily, it was still mostly intact. I was going to ask you to do a facial reconstruction, but Cam said she found a match using dental records. She told me she sent the results to you. Can we pull it up on your computer?"

"Sure. Anxious to find the identity of the victim?" asked Angela, typing in a password and hitting the enter key definitively.

"Yes."

"Me too," sighed Angela as she pressed a button and a window opened up on the screen, revealing the picture of a smiling young boy with a mop of curly hair, lots of freckles, and extremely crooked teeth.

"Does this image remind you of anyone?" asked Brennan, scratching her chin. She looked over at Booth, but his nose was about three inches away from his phone and he was clearly paying no attention to the conversation at hand. She could tell just by the look on his face that it was Hannah he was texting.

"Yes, he does seem familiar to me somehow…" agreed Angela, frowning slightly as Booth finally slapped his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket.

"Parker," breathed Brennan, eyes widening in shock and fear while Booth gasped. "Oh God. He looks just like Parker."

B&B

Again, thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Next part is up! I hope you all enjoy it. I have been struggling to keep everyone in character and probably failing, but hopefully everything sort of fits.

Disclaimer: No, sir.

B&B

Booth snapped his phone shut and hurried to rejoin the group.

"I just called Rose; Parker's with her at the house. I called Rebecca too and she is leaving now to pick Parker up. I have assigned a protection detail to guard them until this bastard gets caught," spat Booth furiously, pacing manically in front of Cam, Brennan, Angela and Hodgins.

"Booth…if you need to leave, that's fine. We understand that Parker's safety is the number one priority right now. We can handle things here for a while," offered Brennan gently, touching his elbow.

"Thanks Bones," replied Booth softly, eyebrows furrowed. "But Rebecca's pissed at me. She doesn't want me coming near him right now." He bowed his head and slumped his shoulders.

"Hey. This is not your fault. Okay?" Brennan squeezed his arm, willing him to look at her. "You know that right?" Booth raised his head and stared into her eyes dispassionately. He neither agreed nor disagreed with her, but she could see by the way he was looking at her that he felt guilty. "You're a wonderful father, Booth. You're a wonderful FBI Agent, partner, and friend. You're a wonderful person. Please stop doubting yourself. I know how hard it must be, discovering that Parker might be in danger." Her voice wobbled, worry clouding her eyes. "I'm—I'm scared too. But if you want to find the person who did this you need to keep your head on the ball."

Booth, who had been slowly standing up straighter throughout her speech, tilted his head and gave her a strange look. Then he chuckled. "No, Bones, I think you either mean keep your_ head in the game_ or your_ eyes on the ball,"_ corrected Booth with a crooked smile. It was clear that he was still feeling panicked about Parker by the way he kept flexing his muscles nervously and teetering up and down on the balls of his feet as if itching to fly into action, but Brennan's words seem to anchor him and he found the strength to put a clamp on the fear and focus on what was important for the moment.

"Mmm," assented Brennan absentmindedly, not even having noticed her error, but glad that the awkwardness between them seemed to have melted away for the moment. "According to dental records, these are the remains of Justin De Luca of Bethesda, Maryland. He's nine." She glanced at Booth and away again. "We have to go talk to the family."

"Right. Bones, you're with me. Cam, get Sweets here, we need his input. Hodgins, Angela, round up all of the interns. I want you to question them one by one as casually as possible. I don't want anyone knowing that we've caught onto them, okay?" Everyone nodded and erupted into action, scattering in all different directions in an effort to get to work as quickly as possible. "Come on, Bones," he called, already heading for the exit.

"Coming!" she replied, scrambling to remove her lab coat and grab her bag. "Can I drive?" she asked, panting, from a few feet behind him, hoping to keep some semblance of normalcy between them by pursuing this routine.

"Uh, no," answered Booth immediately, swinging the keys around in his hand enticingly as Brennan lengthened her strides in an effort to keep up. He was still a few steps ahead of her.

"Wha—why?" demanded Brennan, her face falling and her bottom lip jutting outward in a pout. "I am an excellent driver."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You tell me all the time. But…you're out of luck. I'm still driving." Booth turned around slightly to grin victoriously at her, but gasped when she put on a sudden burst of speed and snatched the keys out from his slack and unsuspecting hand. "Hey!"

"I thought FBI Agents were supposed to be more aware of their surroundings…" teased Brennan, shaking the keys gloatingly.

"Come on, Bones," implored Booth in all seriousness as the pair approached his SUV. "No more kidding around. Right now, we're going to go tell a family that their loved one has been killed and their body ditched on a football field. And I'm pretty sure that the fact that the victim looked like Parker's doppelganger means that my son has been threatened and is in danger. Now is really not the time to be lightheartedly joking about who is going to drive the car."

Brennan hung her head, instantly ashamed. "I'm sorry," she mumbled softly, contritely. "I didn't mean…I suppose I was just reminiscing on the former dynamic of our relationship and realized that I miss it. I didn't mean to inappropriate or disrespectful." She tossed the keys over to Booth and climbed into her seat, buckling and facing out the window as if attempting to block out his disappointment.

Booth started the ignition and pulled out of the parking space, forehead crinkling in consternation. "Hey, Bones. What do you mean 'the former dynamic of our relationship?' You think something has changed between us or something?" he inquired in genuine curiosity.

"Of course," she responded in her typically straightforward and literal tone, still gazing out the window as if fascinated by the buildings and cars and people flashing by.

Brennan's answer gave him even more to think about than her original suggestion. That something had changed between them wasn't news by any means. He would have to be in complete denial to disregard the brand new strain that had developed in their relationship, increasing in strength as time passed. But the fact that Brennan was still her awkward, blunt, literal self seemed to tell him something. Both of them had evolved naturally throughout the time they had worked together, but only a dramatic change or revolution could have the power to cause the newfound tension in their partnership. And the fact that Brennan was pretty much the same as ever indicated to him one thing: that the transformation had occurred on his end. All this time, he had been blaming Brennan for the awkward rigidity between them when she was the same person she'd always been since the day he'd met her. In actuality, he was the one who had changed. The fact that the duo were out of sorts with each other was his own fault.

"Booth?"

He glanced up from the road in front of him and into a pair of bright eyes. Clearly, she had called his name more than one time, but had failed to attract his attention.

"Hmm." He cleared his throat and rubbed his chin uncomfortably. "Uh, yeah, Bones?"

"Do you…even know where we're going?" she asked hesitantly.

"Oh." He glanced around and realized he had automatically been driving towards his apartment. "No, I guess not. What's the address?"

"I've already typed it into the GPS," replied Bones immediately. "But I think we should pick up Hannah first. It shouldn't be a problem, we're almost to your apartment anyway. And it's early enough in the morning that she won't have left for work yet."

"Damn it, Bones," barked Booth in a bearlike growl that would have made most normal people draw back in fear or bemusement but only made Brennan raise an eyebrow.

"What?" she challenged, crossing her arms. "It seems like a good idea to me."

"I let you put her name on your stupid suspect list. But interrogating her is going too far. You _know_ she didn't do it," he rumbled, causing Brennan's eyes to narrow.

"First of all, you don't _let_ me do anything. I can do anything I want to do. Second of all, although I highly value scientific inquiry and am a firm believer in examining all evidence and possible angles before forming conclusions, I am confident that Hannah is not involved in this crime, or any for that matter. She is my friend too, remember? And third of all, I did not invite her to come along to interrogate her. I just thought…that since our team has been provoked and your son—and you as well by association—have been threatened, it would be beneficial to keep her close to the group to ensure her safety. I mean, who better to protect her than her FBI boyfriend?"

"Oh," sighed Booth lamely, feeling guilty for biting her head off over a simple misunderstanding. "Right. Sorry, Bones."

"It's quite alright," she responded, turning to look out the window again. "I've already texted Hannah. She has assured me that she will be waiting outside when we arrive at your apartment building."

"What? Just like that? Did you even have to argue with her? Bribe her, threaten her?" Booth turned his gaze away from the road for a few moments to gawk at Brennan in disbelief.

"Of course not. I just asked her to please meet us in front of your apartment building in five minutes because we need to talk to her about something crucial."

"Oh, so she doesn't yet know that she will be missing work?" asked Booth sounding inexplicably triumphant.

"Certainly she knows that she will be missing work. I have informed her that she will likely be spending the day with us," answered Brennan nonchalantly, tapping her fingers in a calm and leisurely fashion against her knee.

"And she didn't argue with you at all?" asked an incredulous Booth. "If I suggested that she miss work for the day, she would laugh. She wouldn't even consider it. I would have to beg and plead for hours and hours until she even gave it thought. And then she would still refuse. She would go on this rant about how important her work is and how far it would put her back if she skipped out for the day…"

"Well, she did have a few things to say about it at first, but she agreed almost immediately."

"Are you kidding?"

"See Booth, that's the advantage of being the friend instead of the lover," quipped Brennan as they jolted to a stop beside the statuesque blonde waiting by the curb. "Couples argue; friends tend not to." Before Hannah could even touch the handle of the door to the backseat, Brennan was out of the car, holding the door ajar for Hannah. "Here. You can sit with Booth. I'll sit in the back."

"Are you sure?" asked Hannah, feeling her heart warm up at Brennan's thoughtfulness.

"Absolutely," Brennan smiled, ducking around Hannah and hopping into the backseat.

Hannah shrugged, grinning at her, and joined Booth in the front. "So what's the deal? Why am I being kidnapped all day?" asked Hannah, nudging Booth affectionately with her elbow.

"I, for one, was afraid you were in danger," supplied Brennan.

"Me too," agreed Booth swiftly. "Hannah…we found a body early this morning. It was the remains of a kid. Nine years old, curly hair, big brown eyes. Remind you of anyone?"

Hannah stared at him, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. She didn't move a muscle.

"Parker," offered Brennan, trying to help her out. Hannah gasped, her eyes widening further, and covered her mouth with her hands. "Well, it wasn't actually Parker," she added hurriedly, noting Hannah's distress. "He just looked similar to Parker. Booth perceived it as a sort of threat. And we figured that if our team is in danger and Parker's in danger, then you're in danger as well."

"Thank you, Bones," muttered Booth under his breath, rolling his eyes at the less than eloquent way she had explained their situation.

"What?" asked Hannah, leaning closer to him in an unconscious effort to encourage him to speak up.

"Nothing," he responded hastily, focusing once more on his driving.

"How is the rest of the team in danger? Did something happen?" fretted Hannah, twisting her hands together anxiously.

"Oh, yes. I forgot to mention that part," frowned Brennan, putting a hand to her chin. "There was also a message left at the crime scene indicating the murder was a warning to us."

"That's terrible," moaned Hannah, sinking back into her seat. "I hope you will be safe." She pecked a kiss against his cheek before relaxing her body against her chair again. "Shouldn't Parker be with you though?"

"Nah, Rebecca won't let me near him. She's worried about him and when that happens, she's got to blame somebody. And since I am the only person available, that person is me." He sighed, shaking his head. "I just wish I could protect him. I mean, me. Myself. I don't know if I can trust anyone else to keep my little boy safe."

"It'll be okay," soothed Hannah, rubbing his arm comfortingly. "I know that you and your team will catch the killer before he can hurt anyone."

"I hope so," answered Booth, turning to bestow a slightly watery-eyed smile upon her.

Brennan rested her head on the cool glass of the window and closed her eyes, willing her mind to block out the conversation she was inadvertently witnessing. It was difficult enough having been rejected, but to watch the person that she cared for be in love with someone else was becoming nearly unbearable. A small sigh escaping her lips, Brennan leaned her body against the corner where the seat and door met and allowed herself to drift off into a light slumber. After all, she hadn't slept in over twenty four hours.

"Where are we going?" asked Hannah from the front seat, turning to face her boyfriend.

"We have to inform the family of the boy that their child has been killed."

"That sounds like no fun," winced Hannah.

"It's not."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He smiled slightly at her before turning at an intersection. "And I'm sorry I had to pull you away from your work all day."

"Meh, it's fine. Today was kind of a low-key day anyway. I did have one big appointment, but it was cancelled last week so harm done." Hannah smiled sweetly at him, playing with the end of her long ponytail.

"Hey, Bones, wha—oh." He glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed that she was sleeping, her brows crinkled and her nose twitching. But when he called her name, she shot upright in her seat, eyes round as saucers, and sat on the edge of her seat.

"Sorry, what?" she mumbled sleepily, rubbing an eye groggily.

"Never mind. Go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, it's okay," responded Bones in a more alert voice. "We're almost there anyway." As she spoke, the SUV jolted to a stop in front of a large, rambling home with lots of shutters and a wraparound porch. "Look I know that you're the one that usually interviews the parents, but I was thinking…you and Hannah probably have a lot to talk about and _I_ am perfectly capable of handling the interview by myself…" She nodded considerately at the pair seated in front of her and glazed beseechingly at Booth.

"Come on, Bones, you know you're no good at that," reasoned Booth gruffly.

A look of shocked offense skidded across Brennan's face, but almost immediately disappeared. "I am a perfectly satisfactory interviewer. Although I acknowledge that I occasionally lack empathy due to my habit of distancing myself emotionally from the victims, you must admit that I have improved considerably over the years that we've been working together. And it's not as if I've never done it before."

"Yeah, it kind of is," countered Booth, and Brennan crossed her arms defensively.

"No, it most certainly is not. I was the one who had to inform Ted Reardon of his daughter's death."

"Okay, one time."

"Come on, Booth," wheedled Brennan, bestowing upon him an absolutely heartbreaking expression which she knew he couldn't refuse.

"Fine," he agreed grudgingly. "But be gentle."

"Like making l—" she began with a toothy grin, but Booth cut her off.

"Yeah, like that," he interrupted gruffly, looking away. Brennan pressed her lips together and exited the car without saying another word. Booth watched her stride purposefully up the front walkway and knock on the door. After a minute, the door opened and she disappeared inside the home.

"What's going on, Seeley?" asked Hannah in a low, serious voice. Booth turned to her questioningly, but he knew deep down what she was talking about. "Don't look at me like that," she said warningly and he dropped his eyes to his lap. "The tension between the two of you has grown ridiculous within just the last twenty four hours. I want to know what happened."

"Nothing happened, Hannah. It's just that we were up literally all night last night. We're tired and just a little bit cranky." Booth tried for a laugh, but it fell flat.

"Look, you're a cop. You can almost always tell when someone is lying to you. I'm a journalist, so I have that same gift. And I can tell that you're lying to me right now." She stared at him, waiting.

"Fine, you're—you're right. I should have told you. It's just…you know that case we were working on?" asked Booth, leaning towards Hannah.

"Yeah. A woman named Lauren Eames?"

"Yeah. Well, I think that case hit Bones pretty hard or...I don't know. But the truth is, last year before I met you, I kinda had a thing for Bones, you know? And I told her about it and she rejected me. And it—it hurt for a while. But then I found you and we started working on a life together and I realized that I love you and what happened between me and Bones doesn't even matter anymore."

"Yes, and I love this life that we're building together. But I'm still not really sure what this has to do with the increased tension between the two of you," said Hannah.

"Last night, Bones told me that she made a mistake. Something about the universe giving her a signal and not wanting to have regrets." He shook his head. "I couldn't believe it."

"Well, what did you say?" demanded Hannah, her fingers anxiously wrapped around each other in her lap.

"I told her that I love you and I don't want to be with anyone else," replied Booth, looking askance at her. "Why, what's the problem?"

"Nothing, I'm glad that you love me and you don't want to be with anyone else. But you were nice to her, weren't you?" asked Hannah shrewdly with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, of course! I mean, mostly…"

"Seeley Booth. I think that you just broke that woman's heart!" scolded Hannah, placing her hands on her hips.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you two become friends," muttered Booth to himself, earning himself a threatening glare.

"Temperance is my friend. And she's yours too. She knows you even better than I do a lot of the time. You really should have tried to have let her down gently instead of ripping her heart out and completely annihilating it," explained Hannah as if she were talking to a hopeless case.

"How do you know that I ripped her heart out and annihilated it?" retorted Booth incredulously.

"I can tell just by looking into her eyes! Geez, Seeley, the poor girl's probably in there trying to tell those parents that their son just died while dealing with her own broken heart. I hope she's okay…"

"She's fine," insisted Booth, holding his hands out in a claim of innocence. "It's Bones, she's fine."

"I really hope so. And listen, thanks for telling me. I really appreciate the fact that we have such an open and honest relationship." She leaned over and kissed him soundly before pulling out her cell phone. "I have to make a call. Even though I am not actually _at_ work doesn't mean that I am not going to try to get some work done." She winked at him and stepped out of the car, pressing the cell phone to her ear.

Booth leaned back into his seat, sighing. _That could have gone better,_ he thought to himself, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the chair.

B&B

Thanks for reading! I know that not a whole lot happened in this particular chapter, but the next chapter should be a tad more exciting. (:


	5. Chapter 5

Hello Readers! Did last week's episode of Bones make you kind of want to cry? Poor, sad Brennan. Poor, sad Booth. Anyways, sorry this update is significantly shorter than usual. I will try to make up for it next update.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Except for I do own all of the mistakes.

B&B

Angela stood in the center of the Jeffersonian platform, chewing on her thumbnail. She was so distracted she didn't even notice her husband approaching and jumped half a foot into the air at the feel of his touch on her shoulder.

"Jesus, you scared me!" she squealed, holding a hand to her chest dramatically. "That's not good for the baby, you know," she scolded as he took her hands and tugged her close.

"We've got a problem," he whispered in her ear, glancing furtively around the platform.

"What is it?" she muttered back.

"Not all of the interns are here today. They come to work when they are on rotation and only a few of them are here right now. What should we do?"

"We can just talk to these guys here, can't we?" frowned Angela, resting her arms on Hodgins's shoulders.

"Nah, Booth wanted us to question _all_ of the interns," fretted Hodgins. "We'll just have to—"

"I have the perfect idea," interrupted Angela with a grin that made Hodgins instantly nervous.

"Why do I feel like I do not even want to _know_ what your plan is?" he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Of course you want to know my plan. I _am_ the mother of your child." She beamed saucily at him, turned around, and pranced away, her hips swaying just a little more than they naturally did. "Are you coming, or not?" she asked, smiling over her shoulder at him while he stared transfixed at her backside.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, of course," he sputtered, scrambling off the platform and following Angela to her office. "So, um, yeah. What's your brilliant plan?"

"When is the only time that all of the interns are called in at the same time?" responded Angela evasively with a maddeningly superior look sparkling in her eyes.

"When Brennan gets pissed and wants to yell at them all?" ventured Hodgins, knowing full well that his answer was incorrect.

"No." She rolled her eyes and socked him in the arm. "When there's a big case and the Jeffersonian needs more hands to work on it."

"Okay…so what's your suggestion?" Angela stared at him significantly, her eyebrows raised expectantly, her grin broadening slowly. "You are _not _thinking what I think you're thinking. Are you?" asked a panicked Hodgins, stumbling backwards as if physically intimidated by her evil mind.

"If you're thinking I'm thinking of fabricating some story about a big, scary serial killer out to kill children and virgins, then yes, I _am_ thinking what you think I'm thinking." Angela smiled devilishly at him, one hand absentmindedly stroking her swollen stomach.

"Booth is going to _kill_ us if we do that," protested Hodgins in a strangled whisper, but Angela already knew she had him.

"What else do you propose we do then, huh? There are really no other ideas that will allow us to glean information and still keep them from getting suspicious." She crossed her arms determinedly, her mouth set in a firm line. "We are _doing_ my plan. Got me?"

She looked so dangerous with her threatening posture and killer eyes that he decided he had better just go with the flow. Nodding meekly, he picked up his cell phone and began searching for Arastoo's number.

B&B

Brennan strode up the front walk of the beautiful house feeling nervousness and dread rush through her body. She had played a convincing role when trying to get Booth to allow her to handle the family interview, but secretly, she had hoped that he would command her to wait until he went in with her. She was perfectly aware of her own limitations as a person and she knew full well that being reassuring or comforting was certainly not one of her strong suits.

As she approached the huge, wooden front door, she sighed, resigned to her duty as the bad news bearer. She lifted her hand and solemnly knocked on the door three times before sitting back on her heels and waiting for someone to answer the door. After a few minutes, the door finally creaked open slightly and a hesitant eye peeked out of the crack. It squinted and blinked and then disappeared. Suddenly, the door was pulled open and Brennan found herself staring at a small woman with blonde hair and big green eyes. Her face was pale and completely devoid of makeup. Her clothes were mussed and rumpled as if she had been wearing them for a couple of days straight. The woman cleared her throat.

"Yes? What can I do for you?"

"Hello, my name is Dr. Temperance Brennan. I work at the Jeffersonian Institute as a consultant for the FBI. I was wondering if I could come in? I'm afraid I have some upsetting news."

"Oh, no. Justin!" shrieked the woman, falling forward as her knees gave out. Brennan jumped inside the house and caught the woman before she collapsed, shutting the door behind her with a snap. "Oh my poor baby!"

"Mrs. De Luca? I think perhaps you'd like to sit down?" Brennan tried nudging her gently with her elbow, but the grieving mother was blinded and deafened by her misery at discovering her son's death.

"Gone," she muttered, her eyes and nose streaming. "He's gone. My little baby boy." She dissolved into tears again, burying her head into Brennan's shirt while Brennan awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"I am very sorry for your loss, Mrs. De Luca," said Brennan thoughtfully, remembering Booth's constant prodding to express empathy for victim's parents. Mrs. De Luca ignored her, however, seemingly not even hearing her as she sobbed into Brennan's tense and discomfited shoulder. "Is your husband home, Mrs. De Luca?" asked Brennan tentatively, privately thinking that he should be the one holding and comforting this woman, not her.

"Yes. Yes," gulped Mrs. De Luca, finally pulling away from Brennan and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Brennan sighed audibly with relief and took a step back to ensure that the woman wouldn't jump back into her arms. "Steve!" she called, her voice echoing up the stairs. After a few moments of silence, a distant reply sounded and they both heard him approaching the top of the steps with heavy footsteps.

"What?" barked a grouchy voice as Mr. De Luca's feet came into view.

"An FBI lady is here," choked Mrs. De Luca, gagging on her tears. "She's here about Justin."

Mr. De Luca was downstairs before his wife could even finish her sentence. "Here, let's go to the living room, shall we? What are you thinking making our guest stand around in the foyer?" Mr. De Luca reproached his wife gently. He guided both Brennan and his wife into a lovely room with delicate furniture and expensive looking furnishings. "Please sit," he suggested, motioning towards a cozy looking chair in front of a window. "Now, please tell me. What has happened to my little boy?"

"I am very sorry to have to tell you this, sir, but we found some…remains early this morning at one of the local high schools. Unfortunately, the body was positively identified as your son's by use of dental records." She crossed her arms and her legs, feeling supremely uncomfortable. _What was she doing anyway? Why couldn't she have just let Booth do the interview? So what if it was necessary for him and Hannah to talk some things out? _

"Oh, no. Oh, God, no," moaned the father, burying his head in his hands to cover up his tears.

"I'm sorry," whispered Brennan, bowing her head and hoping that she could somehow get through the rest of this interview.

B&B

"Okay, Clark and Fisher were already here," said Hodgins, counting on his fingers as he spoke. "Arastoo and Wendell are on their way…"

"Daisy's coming too," added Angela.

"Great, I think that's everyone then," muttered Hodgins distractedly, glancing around to see if any of the interns had arrived yet. "What story did you tell Daisy?"

"I just told her we had a serial killer case and needed extra hands. What about you?" asked Angela anxiously.

"Same. But what are we going to do when they get here and are expecting a bunch of bodies to examine?" questioned Hodgins, who was clearly starting to shift into panic mode.

"Whoa, calm down, okay?" insisted Angela, placing a calming hand on his arm. "We will figure it out as we go along. The most important thing is keeping everyone safe and finding the killer. That's all."

"Do you really think it's one of us?" questioned Hodgins in a low voice.

"I don't know," answered Angela seriously, leaning closer to him so that they could speak more quietly. "I can't imagine any one of our interns doing it. I mean, sure, sometimes they can be pretty annoying, but that's totally different than _murder._"

"Yeah," concurred Hodgins. "And I can't see Sweets or Cam doing it either. And who else do we have other than that?" inquired Hodgins, shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly.

"I guess Hannah. But Booth and Brennan are adamant that she's not involved. And they know her better than we do. Besides, I can't see Hannah doing it either. She's too…I don't know, she's too gushy. She acts all badass with her trips all around the world, covering stories in dangerous places like Afghanistan, but when it comes to actually _killing_ someone, I think she would chicken out."

"You would know," grinned Hodgins, leaning toward her to kiss her on the cheek.

"Yes, I would know," she laughed, turning and giving him a kiss full on the lips. "Maybe we can somehow use the case we've been working on and incorporate it into our little imaginary case," she suggested, her eyes lighting up thoughtfully.

"I don't know, if one of the interns is the one that did it, they will know that we are lying when we say that it is a serial killer case. They know the truth since they did it and they will think that we are catching onto them."

"Or we could just be really ignorant," countered Angela, shrugging. "I mean, those clues he gave us? Totally lame. Whose to say we even interpreted them correctly? Or at all? Maybe we just thought this case seemed really similar to a case that occurred a few years ago at a different high school in Maryland…"

"I guess we could try to pull that one. Hopefully it works."

"Of course it will work. No one ever doubts a pregnant woman." She beamed and kissed him again. "Now, let's go lie our asses off to our friends and coworkers!"

"Wait!" said Hodgins, freezing midstep, his mouth hanging open. "There haven't been other murders at high schools. So it's not a serial case and it hasn't crossed state lines. How could we have missed that?" he asked incredulously, patting all of his different pockets, clearly searching for his cell phone.

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Angela tugged impatiently on his sleeve, wanting desperately to know what was going on in his brilliant brain.

"There it is," he mumbled, eventually finding it sitting forgotten on Angela's desk behind him. He dialed a number and pressed the device to his ear, waiting for the person on the other line to answer. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," he said under his breath, rocking nervously from foot to foot. "Booth," he said urgently. "A body found at a local high school. Isn't that state jurisdiction?"

"Well, yes," answered Booth from the other end of the line.

"Why would the FBI be working on a case that is in state jurisdiction?"

"Oh, God," breathed Booth, suddenly understanding the implications behind this new discovery. "You're right, we shouldn't be pursuing this, state law enforcement should. How come it got bumped to us?"

"Connections, man," offered Hodgins in his ever cynical tone.

"The killer is important enough that he has connections to people with enough power to ensure that this particular case was put in our hands," said Booth, sounding as if he were in a daze.

"Damn, this bastard's good," muttered Hodgins, shaking his head and hanging up the phone.

B&B

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I apologize if it is rather sloppy, I admit that I didn't even begin to write it until just today. I was put into a moderately depressing mood after watching last week's episode of Bones and couldn't seem to find the motivation or time to work on this fanfiction until now. Consequently, not much editing was done. At all. Ah well, hopefully next week's update will be much more satisfactory. Thanks again for taking the time to read!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello, everyone! First of all, I just want to apologize for deviating from the schedule. I have been ridiculously busy lately, but considering that I have a week to complete my updates which are growing shorter and shorter, I really have no excuse. To make up for adding the newest chapter one day late, I will try to update one day early this week. Secondly, the updates will probably continue to be about the size of this one; I am finding it difficult to write so much at one time. Hopefully that won't be a problem.

Also, I would like to take the time to thank everyone who has read and/or reviewed this story. As a writer, I tend to get distracted easily, starting one project just to abandon it for another idea soon after. Due to that particular unfortunate tendency, I would have almost certainly have given up on this story by now if it hadn't been for you guys. Seriously, you are my whole motivation for continuing to work on this and I thank you so much for it. I really enjoy receiving your feedback, it makes it all worthwhile.

Disclaimer: Hmm mmm.

B&B

Brennan walked out of the De Luca house with a sigh that released the tension that had been building in her shoulders. Her relieved smile slipped for just a moment at the sight of Booth and Hannah embracing in the front seat, but the corners of her mouth hitched back up almost immediately; she wasn't going to allow a simple rejection from a man to get in her way. Even if that man was her partner whom she had shared nearly everything with over the past six years… Nope, she was going to do what she always did: compartmentalize, compartmentalize, compartmentalize. Lock it into a thick box and shove it into one of the dusty corners of her mind where she would hopefully just forget about it altogether.

Before she could reach the SUV, Hannah had jumped out, her bright hair dancing behind her as she approached Brennan and pulled her into an unexpected and quite uncharacteristic hug.

"Uh," choked Brennan, hardly able to breathe with Hannah's arms around her neck. "Hannah?"

"Sorry, sorry," said Hannah, releasing her and lacing her fingers together sheepishly. "How are you doing?"

"I am doing well," responded Brennan. "Why are you asking me that?" she asked in her typical socially awkward manner.

"I was just worried about you…" answered Hannah innocently.

"Why?"

"Just…you know…"

"No, I really don't know. If I knew, I don't believe I would be asking," said Brennan, frowning in confusion.

"Just…don't worry about it," Hannah assured her with an overly bright smile.

"Okay…" conceded Brennan, not wishing to argue anymore as she moved towards the door to the backseat.

"Where are you going?" asked Hannah, snatching the handle before Brennan had the chance. "You let me sit up front on the way here. You can sit up front on the way back."

Brennan nodded, staring at Hannah as if she had grown an extra head. Her behavior was certainly anomalous, but she had no idea what could possibly be motivating Hannah to act in this strange way. Brow crinkled in uncertainty and puzzlement, she climbed into the front seat and slammed the door shut. When she glanced over at Booth, she felt a jolt of comfort and familiarity streak through her, warming her up from head to foot. She may not be able to understand Hannah or her intentions simply by looking at her, but she could read Booth like an open book. Just by flitting her gaze over him one time, she gauged that Booth was sweating profusely, eyes averted, hands clenched around the steering wheel. Nervous. She frowned, cocking her head to the side thoughtfully. What was he nervous for?

"Are you alright, Booth?" asked Brennan in concern, turning to face him in her seat.

"Of course," he grunted in reply without looking at her. "How did the interview go?"

Her face fell; she could tell that there was something wrong and she didn't understand why he wouldn't just tell her about it. Also, he didn't shift into their usual bantering conversation as she had hoped. Usually, he would jokingly express his disbelief that she could have possibly gotten the interview right. She would argue that she most certainly did conduct the interview correctly and he would eventually concede and proudly state that she did a good job.

Not this time.

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "It went quite well. Justin seems to have been a well-adjusted boy. He had many friends from school, church, and baseball and the only person who ever had a problem with him was another nine-year-old at his school. His parents each have alibis for during the day; both work and haven't missed a day of their jobs over the past month. Once we get Hodgins to identify time of death, we can check to see if they are plausible suspects."

"They're not," said Booth quietly with a sigh. "Whoever is doing this didn't take Justin De Luca for any personal reason. They took him because he looked like Parker."

"We don't know that for sure—" began Brennan, but Booth cut her off with a glare.

"I know for sure. I know that, Bones."

Brennan nodded, veiled sadness in her eyes. Booth immediately felt a twinge of guilt for losing his temper with her, but it didn't last long. He had to find this bastard before he hurt his family. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could utter a word, his phone began to ring.

"Booth," he snapped into the phone.

"Booth," came Hodgins' feverish voice from the other end of the line. "A body found at a local high school. Isn't that state jurisdiction?"

"Well, yes," answered Booth, not seeing where this was going and not appreciating being bothered for no good reason.

"Why would the FBI be working on a case that is in state jurisdiction?"

Booth's foot tensed on the brakes, jolting the car to a stop in the middle of the road.

"Booth?"

"Seeley?" asked both Hannah and Brennan simultaneously, staring at him worriedly.

"Oh, God," breathed Booth, understanding dawning on him almost instantly and causing his heart to dissolve in his chest. He completely ignored the two women. "You're right, we shouldn't be pursuing this, state law enforcement should. How come it got bumped to us?"

"Connections, man."

"The killer is important enough that he has connections to people with enough power to ensure that this particular case was put in our hands," said Booth slowly, dazed by this news.

"Damn, this bastard's good," replied Hodgins before hanging up.

Booth snapped his phone shut and put his foot on the accelerator again, thankful that there had been hardly anyone else on the road at that particular time.

"What happened?" demanded Brennan, tugging on the sleeve of Booth's shirt to get his attention. "Was that Hodgins? What did he tell you?"

"Think about it. The remains were found at a local high school. That means the case should have gone to state law enforcement, right?" explained Booth feverishly, driving way faster than the speed limit. "But instead it went to _us._ That happened on purpose. Whoever is behind this has influence. They have friends that are high above us, that have the power to delegate us to work on this assignment."

"Oh, God," gasped Hannah, mouth agape. "That's the guy who threatened Parker? And you're team?"

"Yeah," sighed Booth, flipping on his sirens and flooring it. "We've got to get the son of a bitch. We got to get him _now_."

B&B

"Alright, everyone," said Angela, pacing in front of the group of congregated interns. Thank you all for coming in. We really need the help." She turned and glanced at Hodgins who was standing a few yards behind her, watching while he waited for his computer to analyze some of the particulates found on Justin's body. He smiled encouragingly at her, but she suddenly felt guilty about lying to her colleagues. Swiveling around to face her audience again, she made up her mind and clasped her hands together earnestly to begin her story.

"The truth is, we found a body early this morning. It was a little boy from Bethesda, nine years old. He looks just like—like Parker." Her voice broke as the worry she had been repressing for the past few hours began to overwhelm her.

"Parker?" asked Daisy, tilting her head in confusion.

"Booth's son," Angela reminded her; Daisy clapped her hands over her mouth in horror. "Look, this is personal. We need all the help we can get on this one guys. We need to find the person who did this and put him in jail before he can cause any harm to Booth's little boy. Are you with me?" She gazed impressively around at the lot of them, practically daring them to refuse. "Perfect," she said happily when no one protested. "Wendell, Clark, go examine the bones. Try and glean as much information as you can, including identifying the murder weapon. Fisher, you can assist Hodgins in figuring out time of death. Arastoo, you may help me make a three dimensional recreation of the attack using the Angelator. Daisy…" She glanced at Daisy who was dancing on the balls of her feet in her usual hyperactive, unable-to-ever-stop-moving manner. "Daisy, you can run by the Diner and grab us all some coffee. Then, you can go help Cam."

"Go help Cam with what?" asked Cam as she swiped her card through the scanner and stepped onto the platform. "What is going on up here? Why are all the interns here?"

"Well, because you wanted us to call them all in." Angela turned away from the interns and winked exaggeratedly at Cam, trying to tell her to just go with the flow.

"Oh, yes. Right," agreed Cam glaring pointedly at Angela. "Angela, Hodgins, would you please come with me? I need to confer with you about the case."

Hodgins and Angela exchanged nervous glances before shuffling meekly after Cam, who was walking purposefully into her office. By the time they entered after her, she had already settled herself primly on her seat behind her desk, her hands folded in front of her.

"What are you two up to?" she asked shrewdly, narrowing her eyes at the couple standing sheepishly in front of her.

"It's just this case—"

"The case involving the boy found on the football field? Justin De Luca?" interrupted Cam, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, that's the one."

"And why would that require the assistance of _all_ of our interns?"

Two pairs of eyes stared blankly at her, neither Hodgins nor Angela knowing how to respond adequately.

"Well…they're all suspects," Hodgins finally offered lamely.

"What do you mean by suspects?" Cam stared resolutely at them, waiting for a sufficient explanation, her face set into her I'm-pissed-but-I'm-a-professional-so-I'm-not-about-to-show-it expression.

"Look," sighed Angela, having regained the use of her voice. "It was determined that the culprit is someone on the inside the Jeffersonian, someone who wasn't a part of our original team. We figured the interns would be our best bet. Booth asked us to surreptitiously interrogate each one and report back to him later. The only way to accomplish that was to get them all here together. So that's what I did."

"That's all well and good, but why couldn't you have just _informed_ me of all of this? I _am_ sort of the boss here." Cam shook her head, her eyes shifting towards the ceiling to indicate her exhaustion and dismay.

"Well, yes. About that. Sorry." Hodgins shifted anxiously from foot to foot, refusing to meet Cam's now intensely curious and slightly amused gaze.

"What, am I a suspect?" she chuckled, struggling to keep a straight face. "That's a first."

"Not really," said Angela, shaking her head as Cam laughed harder. "I mean, _potentially_ you're a suspect. That's why we didn't tell you. But we don't really _believe_ that you actually killed that poor boy."

"Hmm. Okay," replied Cam, pulling herself together and sitting up straighter in her chair. "Well, since I am now aware of what is going on, would you do me a favor?"

Hodgins and Angela both nodded feverishly, clearly abashed for their behavior.

"Great," smiled Cam. "Now, keep me in the loop from now on." She frowned at them sternly and waved them on their way, sighing and allowing one last bubbling giggle to erupt from her lips. "Wow. I'm a suspect. My life just gets weirder and weirder."

B&B

Wow, I feel like such a loser for still having Hannah in my story when she's not even in the show anymore. Wasn't it everyone's goal for Hannah to be gone? And yet here I am with Hannah still a main character in this story. We are going to have to do something about that... Any ideas? ;)

Thank you so much for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Hey, guys! Here's the next chapter, one day early, as promised.

Disclaimer: Not today. Probably not tomorrow either.

B&B

Angela marched up onto the platform for the fourteenth time within two hours, a determined gleam in her eye. She came to an abrupt halt right in front of the stainless steel examination table on which the remnants of Justin De Luca lay in the forlorn albeit exact order of the human skeleton. Wendell and Clark were carefully scrutinizing the remains, expressions of intense concentration adorning each of their faces, heads about two centimeters apart as their clever eyes examined each bone for any marks or anomalies. Crossing her arms and tapping her foot, Angela raised an impatient eyebrow at them and scowled when they failed to even notice her presence. With an exasperated eye roll, she cleared her throat exaggeratedly, smirking to herself when both men jumped, inadvertently knocking heads.

"We have not yet ascertained the cause of death, Miss Montenegro," Clark informed her before she could even ask, one hand rubbing his head where it had collided with Wendell's and the other straightening his glasses, which had been knocked askew when Angela had startled him.

"It has been two hours. How can you not know anything by now?" grouched Angela, pacing agitatedly in front of them, wringing her hands in frustration. "If Brennan were here, she would have identified the cause of death already, I guarantee it. But you two working together haven't even found anything of use. How am I supposed to make a three dimensional rendering of the sequence of events leading to this poor boy's death if we do not even have a _cause_ of death?"

"We're working as hard as we can, Ange," said Wendell in his usual soft-spoken manner. "We want to find out who did this as much as you do."

"Great," smiled Angela brightly, sarcastically. "Then I would suggest you start examining that great, gaping hole in the back of his head instead of all of the other bones of his body. I can pretty much _promise_ that you will find the cause of death there." She turned on her heel and stomped off, leaving Clark and Wendell to glance uneasily at each other.

"But Dr. Brennan always tells us to look at _everything_," Clark tried to call after her, but his voice tapered down to a whisper when he realized that she was too far away to hear.

"You examine the head wound, I'll continue searching for other anomalies," decided Wendell after a moment of stunned silence between the men. Clark nodded, and both got to work, leaning right up close to the body once again, squinting to find signs of what could have been used to murder the innocent boy.

B&B

"So, Fisher," drawled Hodgins, swiveling his chair around to face away from his computer. "How have you been, man?"

"Drowning in a raging ocean of mis—I mean, living a life of peace and happiness," Fisher corrected himself, swiftly grabbing up his cup of tea and taking an inordinately large gulp. Hodgins thumped him on the back when Fisher began choking and sputtering, dripping tea all over himself.

"Watch the computer," warned Hodgins, spinning the intern so that he was facing away from his precious machinery. "What have you been up to lately? Like, say, last night?" asked Hodgins with a grimace at his lack of eloquence.

"Last night? Oh, you know, the usual. I went home and made myself a pot of tea. Then, I did some meditation for a few hours, but I was interrupted by my neighbor's dog which wouldn't stop barking. It was kind of a bummer because when I got up to go tell the neighbors to make their dog be quiet, I spilled my tea all over myself and—"

"Sounds like a good story," interrupted Hodgins quickly, seriously not wanting to hear the rest of the tale. "Oh look, the computer has identified the particulates." He leaned closer to the monitor, lips quivering as he mouthed the words while he read them. "Huh. I know where Justin De Luca was killed!" he exclaimed, raising his arms in triumph. "King of the lab!"

"Not until you find out how _long_ he's been dead," disagreed Cam as she hurried past, heels clicking loudly with each step she took.

"Damn," muttered Hodgins, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes in exhaustion.

B&B

"So, Arastoo," smiled Angela as she entered her office once again. "How are you?"

"Oh, I am quite well," answered Arastoo, clearly taken by surprise by Angela's question. "And how are you, Angela?"

"Oh, doing totally great, yeah. Thanks for asking." She paused awkwardly, chewing her lip. "So have you done anything interesting lately?" she inquired, cringing slightly at her own forced nonchalance.

"Actually," grinned Arastoo, his eyes lighting up forebodingly, "I have recently taken up the art of origami. It requires a great amount of skill and patience and I have found that it has sharpened my mind immensely. Would you like to see some that I've made?" His smile was so bright and keen that Angela couldn't bear to refuse him.

"Fine," she sighed, crossing her arms in resignation. "Are they animals, or what?"

"Oh, yes," responded Arastoo eagerly, grabbing a bag which she had not even noticed and pulling out about _a thousand_ folded paper figures. "Here I have an elephant, a bird, a bear, a dog…" He pointed to each one as he named it while Angela nearly cried with exasperation. Finally, he reached the end of his list. "And my personal favorite: a frog. I can make it leap, if I fold it properly." He placed it on the table in front of her, tapped it, and beamed excitedly when it bounced into the air a few seconds later.

"Wow, that's real fascinating. You know what, I had better go check on Clark and Wendell again." She hurried out of the room, pretending not to hear Arastoo's shout behind her.

"But wait! It seems that they haven't had enough time between the last time you asked and now to have…" He broke off when he realized she was gone. "I guess she's not such a big fan of origami." He retrieved his folded frog and made it leap again, pressing his hands together delightedly when it jumped once again.

B&B

"Hodgins? A word?" said Angela through gritted teeth.

"Sure," he nodded, sliding out his chair and following his wife towards Brennan's office. "What's up?" he asked as soon as they had entered and locked the door. "Aren't you afraid that Brennan might kill us if she finds out that we went into her office without her permission?"  
"No, it's fine," Angela brushed him off unconcernedly. "Did you interrogate Fisher yet?"

"Yeah," snorted Hodgins. "He didn't do it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"He has an alibi."

"Really? What is it?"

"He was at home, drinking tea and meditating."

Angela stared at him bemusedly. "I thought Fisher lived alone?"

"Well, yes…"

"So how is that an alibi?"

"His neighbor's dog was barking."

"Okay?"

"Look, Ange, just trust me. The guy did not do it. I can just tell by his whole…demeanor."

"Okay…I trust you," nodded Angela, deciding to just go with him on this one.

"What about you?" inquired Hodgins, raising his eyebrows at her. "Did you get a chance to question Arastoo?"

"Yep. He didn't do it."

"How do _you_ know?"

"The guy has like a million origami figures. There is no way that he had time to plot out a whole murderous scheme _and_ fold all of those paper animals." Angela gave a significant look to Hodgins and he burst into laughter at the expression on his wife's face.

"So who is going to interrogate Wendell and Clark?" asked Hodgins in an abrupt switch back to seriousness.

"I do Clark, you do Wendell. Deal?"

Hodgins nodded. "You should tell Clark that you need help with something and separate him from Wendell. Once you have him alone, ask him your questions. When I've seen that you and him have left, I'll interrogate Wendell. Sound good?"

"Yep," she concurred and marched out of Brennan's office, Hodgins close on her heels. "Hey, Clark, I need your help—um—with lifting a heavy crate," she invented as soon as she had skidded to a halt in front of the studiously working pair of interns.

"Sure thing," agreed Clark with a sigh, reluctantly replacing the skull on the examination table. "Is it in down in Limbo?"

"Um, yes, it certainly is. Why don't you head down there and I will be right behind you?"

Clark shrugged gamely and stepped off the forensics platform, heading towards Limbo. Angela shuffled after him, making a face at Hodgins as she went. "Help lifting a heavy crate?" he mouthed silently to her with raised eyebrows. Angela lifted her hands in the universal "I-have-no-idea" sign and shook her head as she passed him and hurried after Clark's retreating form.

B&B

"You know, I feel like I haven't talked to you in a long while, Clark," commented Angela, leaning against a row of shelves.

"We talked just last week, Angela," Clark reminded her, standing on his tiptoes in an attempt to reach a box that was high over his head.

"I know, but, I mean, we haven't _really_ talked in a long time," said Angela, hiding her smirk as Clark practically hopped up and down, still unable to reach the box.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?" he asked, ceasing in his jumping and putting his hands on his hips tiredly.

"I don't know. How have you been? Have you done anything fun within the past few days?" Angela grinned alluringly at him, hoping to coax some information from him.

"Ah. Actually, I have had a particularly wonderful past few days, thanks for asking. Nora took some time off work so that we could…you know. I mean, we just stayed in bed _all day_. It was great. We even—" he began with a chuckle, but Angela cut him off with a raised hand.

"Don't you think you're being a little unprofessional right now, Clark?" she frowned disapprovingly at him.

"What?" he responded innocently. "You asked. And I know that I have got some muscles on me, but if you wanted someone to grab a crate that high up, you should have asked someone taller." He whisked around and went on his way back to the forensics platform, leaving Angela to mutter incoherently to herself in frustration.

B&B

"Hey, man," said Hodgins, punching Wendell in the arm in a friendly sort of way. "You and I haven't done anything in a while. I thought we were friends," he joked.

"Yeah, sorry, man. I've been pretty busy," answered Wendell absent-mindedly, gazing closely at the skull Clark had replaced on the examination table moments before. "I just took on another job and all this working has been kind of eating up my life."

"Bummer, man," said Hodgins, frowning appropriately. "That sucks."

"Yep. But I am well on my way to paying back all of my family and friends, so it's all worth it." Wendell looked up to beam happily at Hodgins, leaving no doubt in Hodgins' mind that the kid was innocent.

"Good for you, Wendell," smiled Hodgins, clapping him on the shoulder proudly. "Good for you."

"Thanks, Hodgins. I'm going to just keep looking for the cause of death now, if you don't mind."

"Oh, no problem," acquiesced Hodgins, edging away to return to his own area. "Unbelievable," he muttered to himself. "We are almost out of suspects."

"Talking to yourself?" questioned an amused voice in his ear.

"Angela!" he breathed. "Was it Clark?"

"Nope. He was too busy having sex with his girlfriend. How about Wendell?

"Nah, wasn't Wendell."

"Okay, well then who is it? We're kind of running out of potential suspects here…"

"We haven't talked to Daisy yet," shrugged Hodgins unenthusiastically.

"Do you think it could have been her?" whispered Angela seriously, eyes wide.

"Who, Daisy? I mean, I guess she could have done it…"

"I thought it was pretty suspicious when she acted like she didn't know who Parker was. I mean, how could she not have heard of Parker? Booth talks about him all of the time."

"I don't know…" said a thoroughly unconvinced Hodgins.

"No, really. And her reaction when I reminded her who Parker was? Way melodramatic. It seemed totally fake."

"It's _Daisy. _What do you expect?"

Before Angela could come up with an adequate response, the subject of the conversation swept into sight, followed closely by Dr. Sweets. Hodgins and Angela exchanged a startled glance before setting their sights upon the pair once more.

"I guess we should interrogate the both of them," whispered Angela out of the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah, you can take Daisy and I'll take Sweets," suggested Hodgins swiftly, earning a dirty look from his wife.

"I'm really glad you think so. I am pregnant. I shouldn't be forced to deal with people like Daisy."

"Rock, paper, scissors?" offered Hodgins hopefully.

"Fine," agreed Angela grouchily, setting her fist in her palm readily.

"Rock, paper, scissors," they both said in hushed tones. Angela scowled deeply when her husband's rock crushed her scissors.

"Best out of three," she demanded in desperation and Hodgins rolled his eyes but complied. "Rock, paper, scissors," she murmured, glowering when her rock was defeated by his paper. "Fine. I hate you."

Hodgins chuckled and followed her to where Daisy and Sweets were having a heated argument, faces about two inches away from each other.

"Where are our coffees, Daisy?" asked Angela with a frown when she noticed that the intern was empty-handed.

"What?" snapped Daisy distractedly, barely sparing Angela a glance.

"I thought you were going to pick up coffees for everyone and then go assist Cam."

"Oh. Well, I forgot. Sorry. Maybe you guys should just get your own coffee from now on." Glaring ferociously, Daisy strode away, feet clunking angrily against the ground with each step she took.

"O-kay, that was weird," commented Angela, cocking her head at Sweets curiously. "Hey, you. What took you so long to get here? We've been waiting for you. We need help to figure out this case."

"Sorry," growled Sweets, causing Angela to take an involuntary step backward. She hadn't even known his voice could go that low or gravelly. "I'm going to go talk to Cam." He left immediately, leaving Angela and Hodgins to stare dumbfounded at each other.

"It's Daisy."

"It's Sweets." Both spoke at the same time and dissolved into quiet laughter at their simultaneous burst of speech.

"You go ahead," offered Hodgins, nodding his head invitingly at her.

"No, you go ahead," insisted Angela, biting her lip to keep from shouting in her frustration with the situation.

"What if we're both right? I mean, they're both acting very odd. Maybe they're working together?"

"No way."

"Why not?"

She stared at him for a long moment, her lips pressed tightly together. "I don't know," she finally admitted with a shrug.

"It's okay. I know that it's hard to think that any of our friends could be involved in this," soothed Hodgins, rubbing her back comfortingly.

"Yeah. But Daisy and Sweets?"

Both Angela and Hodgins sighed, glancing around the now quiet platform, their faces betraying their worry and exhaustion. They hoped they were wrong, but for the moment, their hunch sure felt right.

B&B

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear your opinions, if you'd like to review. (:


	8. Chapter 8

Here's the next chapter! I know it's going kind of slow right now and the way Booth is acting is probably driving you nuts (it's driving me nuts, I can tell you that) but some crazy things are going to happen pretty soon if all goes according to plan. I do hope you enjoy this chapter!

Special thanks to everyone who has ever reviewed and/or added this story to their alerts/favorites list.

Disclaimer: Pretty sure it belongs to Hart Hanson and all them.

B&B

Angela's foot had been tapping restlessly against the floor for twenty minutes, her eyes flitting to the clock every few seconds as she waited. Just as she was about to get truly concerned about the fact that Brennan hadn't arrived back at the lab yet, the focus of her distress appeared in the doorway to her office, two coffees in hand.

"Hey Ange," said Brennan quietly, smiling softly at her friend and offering her one of the coffees.

"I was just getting worried about you, Bren!" exclaimed Angela, snatching the proffered coffee and taking a greedy sip from it. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry to make you anxious, Ange," apologized Brennan distractedly, still hovering by the entrance to the office. "Booth wanted to visit the victim's school and talk to some of his friends and teachers."

"How did that go?" asked Angela with a sad, close-lipped smile. Standing and stretching, she approached Brennan, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to the couch, where they both sat to continue their conversation.

"We didn't get much from anyone." Brennan sighed. "Booth didn't think we would, but he wanted to talk to everyone at the school today so that he could get it over with and move on to more promising suspects."

Angela nodded, taking another gulp of her coffee. "Hodgins and I have talked to almost everyone here. We have a few possibilities in mind, but we haven't interviewed them yet so…" Brennan's head bobbed slowly and her lack of attention was instantly noticeable to Angela. "Hello? Are you even listening?" She tapped Brennan's nose, startling her.

"What? I'm sorry, Angela, I seem to be a bit preoccupied. What did you say?"

"Never mind that. What's going on with you, sweetie?" inquired Angela with a frown, folding her arms expectantly when Brennan hesitated.

"It's Hannah," Brennan finally confessed grudgingly, blowing out the breath she had been holding.

"What about Hannah?"

"I _wish_ I could be more like you or Booth or Cam at times like this," huffed Brennan, digging her fists into her hips. "_You_ would be able to observe Hannah's behavior and accurately interpret what she is thinking based on her words and actions. I don't have that skill and it is making me feel _very_ frustrated."

"Honey, what is it about Hannah that you don't understand?" asked Angela loudly, effectively focusing Brennan's attention back onto her.

"She is acting…very strangely, to say the least," explained Brennan, staring forlornly at her fingernails, forehead crinkling up in consternation.

"Strange how?" pressed Angela, seizing the hand that the anthropologist seemed to be so transfixed by, forcing her to look up. "How is she acting?"

"She—she hugged me. For no reason," began Brennan in a shrill voice that indicated her extreme bewilderment at the situation. "And she told me she was worried about me, but refused to elaborate on why. And she continually inquires on how I am feeling or arbitrarily offers kind gestures, but won't explain her reasoning behind doing so. I just wish I knew what she was thinking."

"Bren, have you tried _asking her_ about it? Directly?" questioned Angela, with a barely concealed smirk adorning her face as she gazed knowingly at Brennan.

"Well, not exactly, I suppose—"

"Uh, then I suggest you try that. It _is_ the most logical path to follow, hmm?" Angela grinned and winked at her, determined to pull a smile out of her best friend. Brennan's lips twitched and the corners of her mouth hitched upward a fraction and Angela made a goofy face until Brennan was giggling, a smile firmly in place. "That's more like it," nodded Angela approvingly. "Now get your butt up and out of my office. You need to go talk to Hannah and I need to go talk to Booth."

"Thanks Angela," said Brennan, eyes shining earnestly.

"Oh, any time, sweetie," she waved her off. "Now go figure out what's going on!"

Brennan nodded in concurrence and headed purposefully out the door, Angela a few steps behind her in her search for Booth.

B&B

"What have you got for me?" asked Booth, rubbing his hands together expectantly. "Any suspects?"

"Sort of," hedged Hodgins, eyes glued to his computer as he combed through the different species of insects, searching for the identity of a fat beetle sitting lazily in an evidence jar on his desk.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Sort of?" demanded Booth in his low and threatening voice, hands pressed intimidatingly to his hips.

"We still have to talk to them," replied Hodgins evasively, tearing his eyes from his computer screen to look around for Angela, who was heading towards him chewing on her bottom lip. "Oh, look, there's Angela."

"Damn it, Hodgins, what have you found out so far?" growled Booth impatiently.

"Hey, Booth," Angela greeted him calmly. "No need to be grumpy. I will tell you what we've done so far. We have ruled out Wendell, Clark, Fisher, and Arastoo as suspects and at this point we are looking at Daisy and Sweets as our prime suspects."

"Why?"

"Why are the other interns not suspects or why are Daisy and Sweets our main suspects?"

"Both."

"It was just a feeling about the other interns. And about Daisy and Sweets," explained Angela emphatically.

"What the hell does that even mean?" fumed Booth, eyes narrowing. "What kind of detective work is that?"

"Look, Daisy and Sweets came in super late and they were acting really weird. It was totally suspicious," said Angela seriously. "And they were arguing too. Maybe they're working together on this and they are having a disagreement over it?"

"Oh, they were late, were they? They looked suspicious? They were arguing?" Booth huffed agitatedly, his face turning red in aggravation. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe they were late because they were having sex I-don't-even-want-to-know-where? Maybe they were acting suspicious because they didn't want us to know that that's why they were late? Maybe they were arguing because one of them had instigated the situation and the other was angry about it? Your theory doesn't even make any sense, it has absolutely no substance. And you haven't even talked to them about it yet? Geez, I have to do everything myself around here."

"Uh, yeah, considering you're the cop and all," responded Angela, rolling her eyes irritably as Booth stormed off, presumably in search of his girlfriend. It's not like it was _their_ job to be interviewing potential suspects.

B&B

Brennan found Hannah in the lounge on the upper level of the Jeffersonian, leaning against the metal walkway with a coffee in hand, eyes unfocused, mind clearly far away. Clearing her throat, Brennan joined her, resting her elbows on the railing and waiting for Hannah to turn to face her, wishing she hadn't left her own coffee in Angela's office.

"I am going to ask you a question and instead of evading or brushing me off, I would like you to please answer," began Brennan bluntly. "Why are you behaving in such an anomalous manner? It is having a surprisingly strong effect on my presence of mind and I demand that you give me a straight answer because this particular case especially requires the full function of my brain."

Hannah sputtered for a second, having expected the question eventually, but foolishly not anticipating it being presented to her so straightforwardly. "Um, look, I don't know if I should tell you…" Brennan's face fell, causing Hannah to immediately regret her words. "I mean, it's just that—" she tried to backtrack, but Brennan was already interrupting.

"I thought that we were friends," she whispered in a heartbreakingly innocent and disappointed voice that made Hannah's chest deflate and her shoulders slump.

"We are friends!" she insisted stridently, grabbing Brennan's hand and squeezing it reassuringly, but Brennan didn't return the squeeze, simply allowing her hand to lay limply in Hannah's.

"Please tell me," she asked again, piercing Hannah with her penetrating blue eyes.

"Seeley told me," Hannah finally sighed, looking away awkwardly.

"Told you…what?"

"About last night," Hannah murmured, barely moving her lips as if embarrassed.

"Booth told you? He…told you?" Brennan's eyes had widened to the point of pain and her entire face had emptied completely of color and crumpled in panic, fear, and betrayal. Hannah couldn't bring herself to speak, so she simply nodded the affirmative and watched as Brennan seemingly folded in on herself, closing her eyes, bowing her head, and sinking to the floor as her limbs lost the ability to hold her up.

"I'm sorry," whispered Hannah, lowering herself onto the ground as well and wrapping her arms comfortingly around the silently suffering woman. "I'm so sorry."

"It's certainly not your fault," returned Brennan in a strained but admirably normal voice. "I just wish you would have told me earlier."

"Sorry," Hannah mumbled again, closing her eyes and resting her chin on Brennan's shoulder, feeling indescribably sad for the woman falling apart in front of her.

"_There_ you are!" boomed Booth from a few yards away, striding towards them with purposefully large steps. "I—what's the matter?" He gaped stupidly at the scene in front of him, an expression of utter shock on his face.

Hannah released Brennan when the woman squirmed within her embrace and leaned back so that the anthropologist could rise to her feet unimpeded. Brennan pulled herself up to her full and rather considerable height, drawing up all of the dignity she possessed as she glared spitefully at the clueless man standing before her.

"I trusted you," she spat, unable to keep the hint of emotion from wobbling in her voice. "I _trusted _you," she repeated, her eyes beginning to fill with tears that she wouldn't shed until later when she was home alone with her sweatpants and her wine. "You always said that what was ours was ours. And ever since you taught me that, I have stayed firm to that specific mind frame. But you obviously haven't."

The hurt apparent in her eyes almost made Hannah want to push her own boyfriend over the metal railing, but she resisted the temptation to do or say anything, understanding that it was Brennan's battle to fight.

"How could you?" Brennan's voice broke and she shook her head in a futile attempt to banish her tears.

"Look, I'm with Hannah now, Bones," Booth tried to explain, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach. "What's mine is hers, you know? We don't have secrets from each other."

"Then how come I have to have secrets from people, Booth? That's not fair. I've told you before I don't like double standards." Her eyes flashed devilishly and she nearly smirked in satisfaction when Booth took a step back, clearly on edge.

"No, it's not the same," replied Booth defensively, becoming angry himself at Brennan's hostility, though he knew he probably deserved it.

"How is it not the same?" demanded Brennan, now shaking in her fury.

"It—it just is!" insisted Booth, his voice growing louder with each word he spoke. "Come here, this is a private conversation. We shouldn't be having this where everyone can hear."

"The only person who can hear is Hannah," mumbled Brennan caustically as he pulled at her arm. Booth did not answer. "You don't want her to hear? I thought you told her _everything_," she said, her voice positively dripping with sarcasm. Ignoring her, he dragged her back downstairs and hauled her into her office, banging the door closed behind them.

"That was different, Bones," Booth repeated in a much gentler voice than the one he had been using before.

"How, goddamn it. How was it different, Booth?" Brennan crossed her arms over her chest and chewed on her tongue, anxious to hear his response.

"Because I loved you Bones," he finally confessed after a few moments of emotionally charged silence. "I loved you, and I didn't think you should be sharing _our things_ with other people."

Brennan stared at him, eyes round as coins, mouth slightly open, cheeks tinged with pink. "It's not different," she eventually murmured, refusing to even glance in his direction as she grabbed her jacket and fled from the room.

B&B

Thank you for taking the time to read! You are welcome to review. I would love to hear some speculation on who did it. The culprit could really be anybody at this point (:


	9. Chapter 9

Hey, guys. Wow, I can't believe I updated late again! I'm really sorry about that! Truthfully, this story is making me crazy. I know where I want to go with it, but I am not sure how to get there. Hopefully this chapter will be a step in the right direction despite its brevity. Hope you enjoy!

By the way, thank you for everyone who reviewed. Reviews make my life. Seriously, they do. (:

Disclaimer: I'm becoming quite the pro at _not_ owning this story.

B&B

Booth sat in Brennan's office, silently contemplating the meaning behind her words. _It's not different?_ Did that mean what he thought it meant? She couldn't possibly love him… She didn't believe in anything as unscientific as love…

His musing was abruptly cut off by the buzzing of his phone and when Booth recognized the caller ID, he instantly answered, feeling both fear and anticipation.

"Rebecca?" he asked immediately upon taking the call. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled his ex-girlfriend, clearly in a bad mood. "Parker's being whiny though. He misses you and doesn't understand why he doesn't get to visit you this weekend. He says it's not fair that we're skipping his weekend with daddy." She sighed, her exhaustion evident in her wearied voice. "Look, Seeley, I know you're a good cop and a good dad, okay? I'm just scared." Her voice broke a little bit and Booth knew her well enough to tell that her chin was wobbling with emotion. "I'm afraid to let him out of my sight because I don't want anything to happen to him. But…I do realize that you are a skilled FBI Agent and have better resources for keeping our son safe than I do, so…" She took another deep breath, seemingly steeling herself. "I am going to let you have Parker just for a few days. _Make sure he's safe,_" she emphasized, almost shouting in his ear. He could almost imagine her poking him forcefully in the chest with each word.

"I always do," replied Booth. "Hey, Rebecca?"

"Hmm?" she responded absentmindedly and Booth could hear Parker complaining about having to put his coat on in the background.

"Thanks." He cleared his throat embarrassedly, hoping he was able to convey the relief and gratitude he could currently feel crashing down upon him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Seeley," she responded earnestly and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was smiling. "Where am I dropping him off at?"

"The Jeffersonian is fine," said Booth glancing at the clock on the wall to check the time. "When should we be expecting him?"

"Twenty minutes tops," she responded and hung up with a final fleeting word of farewell.

Booth sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. He felt the strange urge to dunk his head in a bucket of water, an impulse he hadn't experienced since he was twelve and faced with a challenging game of Bobbing for Apples with his friends. As he exited Brennan's office and swept his gaze across the lab, he tried to convince himself that he was searching for Hannah to inform her about Parker. Tried to convince himself that he wasn't keeping an eye out for his partner to make sure she was doing okay and scope out her attitude towards him since their encounter in her office.

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"Yes!" shouted Hodgins, leaping up from his seat in front of his computer and thrusting his fists victoriously into the air. "Booth!" He swiveled around in his seat, scanning the surrounding platform for the FBI Agent and found him striding past, obviously in search of someone. "Hey, wait!" he called after him, but Booth had already disappeared. "Okay," he muttered to himself. "Cool, ignore me. Next I should find Brennan."

"I'm here," she responded in his ear, only a few inches away. Hodgins flinched and nearly skyrocketed out of his chair, eliciting a small chuckle from the anthropologist. "What have you got for me?"

"Time of death." Brennan raised a single eyebrow as if to say 'so, what?' and Hodgins continued in his overly dramatic, self-satisfied tone. "He was killed ten days ago and was originally buried in a wooded area somewhere in Bethesda, according to soil samples found on the remains. I would check out any local parks around where the boy lived," he suggested. "See if there are any with rodent problems. I'm sure you noticed that the victim's body is almost completely devoid of flesh due to scavenging from what looks like rats and maybe other small animals."

"Yes, I did notice that. Thank you, Hodgins. That was excellent work," Brennan commended him, already moving away to speak with Wendell and Clark.

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"Dr. Brennan!" exclaimed Wendell happily when she quietly joined them at the examination table. "We were just going to look for you. We have identified cause of death."

"Did you? Well, what is it?" asked Brennan, leveling them with her sharp stare.

"The boy was rendered unconscious by blunt force trauma to the parietal bone," explained Clark quickly. "However, that blow did not kill him. Death was actually caused by a stab wound to the chest cavity. We discovered a nick on two of the ribs where the knife plunged into the boy's body, presumably straight into the heart."

"Wonderful. Please identify the type of knife used to kill the victim."

Before the two interns could even spare a gloomy glance at each other, Brennan had already marched away, oblivious to her general lack of gratitude and praise for their job well done.

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"Hannah," breathed Booth in relief, recognizing the back of a blonde head standing just inside the front entrance to the Jeffersonian. "What are you doing over here, baby?" he inquired, rubbing her crossed arms which had erupted in goosebumps due to the cold from the constantly opening and closing doors. "You look like you're freezing."

"What's going on with you and Temperance?" asked Hannah, looking directly into his eyes to convey her earnestness. "I want to know."

"I don't know what you mean," responded Booth, and truthfully he didn't. Nothing was ever going on with Brennan and himself, much to his dismay. _Not anymore,_ he reminded himself silently. _I am glad that there is never anything between us now._

"You're lying," frowned Hannah, folding her arms more tightly across her body. "You must know what I mean. _What is happening with you two?_"

"Nothing," replied Booth with such raw honesty and sincerity and—disappointment?—she could hardly doubt him.

"Okay," she conceded with a nod, but her brow was furrowed suspiciously. "You would tell me if there was anything, right?"

"Of course, Hannah," smiled Booth warmly at her, enveloping her in his arms. "Of course. Guess what?" His voice took on the boyish excitement of a child and Hannah couldn't help but smile back at him.

"What?"

"Parker's coming. Rebecca's dropping him off at the Jeffersonian." He grinned and Hannah leaned forward to kiss him squarely on the mouth.

"I'm so glad," she whispered, stroking her hand against his cheek. "If you want, I'll wait out here and bring him in to you when he arrives," she offered, palm still resting against the side of his face.

"Thanks, but I'd rather wait for him with you. I can't wait to see him, make sure he's safe," he murmured into her ear, pulling her in for a hug.

"Alright," she laughed, squeezing him tight for a moment before stepping away. "Ugh," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "I have to run inside and grab my phone and my coffee. I left them up in the lounge."

"You want me to get it for you?" asked Booth, bending his knees slightly to look straight into her eyes.

"Could you?" She gazed at him with such love and tenderness that Booth couldn't even begin to put up a fight.

"Sure thing, baby. I'll be right back. And hey, if Parker gets here before I return, bring him right inside the lab and don't move. 'Kay?"

Hannah nodded gratefully and resumed her position in front of the Jeffersonian, keeping a vigilant lookout for her boyfriend's little boy.

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"Has anyone seen Cam?" questioned Hodgins, turning around in a full circle around himself in search of her.

"Nope, not for a while," answered Angela from a few feet away. "How about Daisy and Sweets? I'm still pretty suspicious about them," she admitted with a suggestive hitch of her eyebrows.

"I'm more concerned about where Bones is," boomed Booth, stomping down the stairs with a phone and coffee in hand. "Has anybody seen her?"

Angela shook her head and glared pointedly at him, not bothering to hide her dissatisfaction with the way he was treating her best friend.

"Me neither," shrugged Hodgins, turning back to his computer.

A trilling scream suddenly echoed distantly around the lab, causing the hairs on the back of Booth's neck to stand on end. He was flying out of the lab and towards the entrance to the Jeffersonian in an instant, tripping over his feet a little bit in his haste. "Hannah," he huffed, sprinting so swiftly that he nearly ran into the door before he could pull it open. "Hannah. Where are you?"

She was sitting on the ground just on the outside of the building, clutching her waist as a steady stream of blood seeped through her fingers. Tears streaked down her face and she choked on them as she sat on the pavement. The one of the large front doors to the Jeffersonian was propped open against Hannah's body, pushing her so that she was leaning sideways. "Parker," she mouthed, her voice muted from the agony of her slight gunshot wound.

"Parker? What about Parker?" Booth was pressing his own hands to graze in his girlfriend's side and beginning to feel the first fluttering of real, unadulterated panic in his chest.

"They took 'im," she groaned, gasping from the pain. "I'm sorry, Seeley," she sobbed, burying her face in his neck. "Sorry."

"Parker," he moaned, closing his eyes against the blind terror that was viciously attacking him. "Parker."

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Well, that's it! I surely hope it was satisfactory! I'll try to do what I did last time and update a day early since I updated a day late this week, but with Spring Break coming up, I am super busy with schoolwork. Isn't it just great how the teachers realize that a break is coming and try to squeeze in every possible quiz, test, project, and essay they can before it hits? I really don't think it is, personally. Too bad my opinion doesn't count for much. Thanks for reading! Reviews are nice (:


	10. Chapter 10

Wow, I managed to get it done on Sunday, but barely! Hope you enjoy! Thanks for the reviews, by the way. (:

Disclaimer: Not mine.

B&B

Silence reigned in Brennan's office. Booth sat slumped low in Brennan's chair, twisting from side to side, staring stonily in front of him. Hannah lay across the couch, her head and shoulders resting across Brennan's lap as the anthropologist finished bandaging up the wound in her side. Hodgins sat perched on the arm of the sofa, twiddling his fingers nervously while Angela sat cross-legged on the ground, a quietly troubled look on her face. Each was struggling with their own thoughts and worries as they sat suspended in the stillness.

"There," said Brennan quietly, patting Hannah's shoulder in a rare show of affection. "Does it feel better now?"

Hannah nodded slowly, eyelids fluttering closed.

"Good," muttered Brennan in response. "The painkillers should help. Don't forget to take the advice the EMTs gave you."

"Mmm," whispered Hannah, falling into the lull of light nap as she spoke.

Brennan gently extricated herself out from under Hannah leaning body and stood awkwardly next to her desk beside Booth. Worry creased her forehead as she glanced at Hannah and then out towards the lab, her thoughts evident on her face. _Where is Cam? Cam would be better suited to patch Hannah up. Where could she be? And since she's not here, what does that mean? Does that implicate her?_

With a heavy sigh, she leaned her hip against her desk and stared at Hannah's dreaming face, trying to reconcile her anger at her for letting Parker be taken away with her general liking for her. Unfortunately, her mind was in such turmoil over Parker's abduction that she couldn't think about anything except her favorite kid's blonde curls and angel face. She couldn't help but think that if it had been _her_ out there with Parker instead of Hannah, she would have been able to prevent him from being taken.

A cell phone buzzed loudly, breaking Brennan from her dark thoughts and she glanced up in time to see Angela stowing her phone in the back of her jeans as Hodgins whipped his own out from his pocket. Flipping open the device, Hodgins smiled softly and rolled his eyes at the message his wife had sent him.

_I think I know who did it._

It really wasn't an amusing situation and he felt foolish for cracking a smile while everyone was so worried about Parker, but he couldn't help it. His wife's brain just went a mile a minute and it was pretty tough for anyone to keep up with her, including herself, he thought, sometimes. Besides, how could she possibly know who it was that was messing with their team if their own team leaders didn't even have a clue?

With an exasperated sigh, he shot another text back at her.

_Okay, let's hear it. Who do you think is responsible for this now?_

Angela threw her husband a dirty glance when she saw his skeptical response and messed him back immediately, keys clacking harmonically as her fingers flashed against the number pad.

_Shut up. I am still convinced it's Daisy and Sweets. They showed up late here and they disappeared again when Parker was taken. I don't even know if they've returned yet. Besides, they've been acting suspiciously all day. Something is up with them._

Hodgins shook his head dubiously and widened his eyes at Angela as if pleading for her to see sense.

_Ange, we have no proof. It's just a feeling and we've already told Booth about it. Let's just wait and see what he thinks, okay? He is the cop, not us._

_Fine. Then I'm going to talk to them the second they get back from wherever they've been,_ Angela answered, pressing the power button on her phone audibly so that Hodgins would know there was no use in texting her back and arguing with her. With a slight flip of her hair in Hodgins direction, she rose from her seat on the ground and padded out of the room, eyes peeled for a certain psychologist and intern.

Booth watched her go through hooded eyes, resisting the urge to run after her and wring her neck. He had been pretending not to hear the text message battle going on between the entomologist and forensic artist, but inside he was seething. Couldn't they focus a little more on the task at hand? Figuring out who took Parker was the top priority and yet the couple didn't seem like they were putting too much effort into it. _Not that I'm really able to be putting a whole bunch of effort into it at this point either,_ Booth thought to himself as Hodgins shot up from his own perch, clearly intent on following his wife and maybe stopping her from doing something stupid.

Booth's gaze wandered over to where his girlfriend was laying prone on the couch, her arm curled up against her side as if to protect her wound even in her sleep. He eyed her for a few moments, letting his mind shift to all sorts of forbidden places it should never go when considering a loved one. Despite his earlier convictions of her absolute innocence, he couldn't help but question what had happened when he left her outside alone before Parker arrived. After all, he had specifically said that he wanted to remain outside to wait for Parker and yet she had asked him only moments later for him to run inside and grab some things for her. Hannah could have probably shot herself in the waist to cast suspicion away from herself. And she was the only person that they hadn't thoroughly checked out. And how well did he really know her anyway? They had been together for a number of months, sure, but the only things he knew about her were the things she told him and there was a lot of room for lies and manipulation in their relationship, now that he thought about it. She even had the connections to put the case right into the FBI's hands. Why had he so adamantly refused to even consider her as a suspect before?

"Booth?" came Brennan's quiet, tentative voice from beside him. "Booth, a—are you okay?" He angled his head upward just enough to level an incredulous stare at her and watched as a tinge of pink crept into her cheeks. "Okay, I recognize upon reflection that that was probably a senseless question. What I mean is that I am sorry that your son was taken from you and you weren't able to be there to protect him." Booth scowled and folded his arms impatiently. "I wish I could say I knew how you felt, but I honestly don't. However, I do feel pain over the fact that Parker is missing so I can identify with that particular emotion." She paused. "I wish I knew what to say. I wish I could just…say a word and bring Parker back, but I can't. If I could, I would do it in a second."

Booth, who had been agitated by his partner's speech at first, suddenly stood and wrapped his arms around Brennan, pulling her in for a giant hug. Burying his face in her hair, he pulled her closer to him, almost sighing when he felt her press her face into his neck. "It's okay," he reassured her in a muted voice, stroking her hair when he felt her body convulse with a silent sob.

"I'm so scared, Booth," she whispered, snaking her arms around his waist and shifting her head so that her forehead was resting against his shoulder. "I hope he's okay."

"I know," he murmured in her ear. "I am too. I am beyond freaking out right now. I wish I could just hop up and run, run, run until I find my little boy and save him from whoever took him. I wish I could kill the people who threatened him and took him away from me and put him in harm's way. I feel so—so helpless." His voice broke and Brennan pulled him impossibly closer, offering whatever comfort she could even though she knew it wasn't a lot.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued the embrace for another long moment before stepping away reluctantly. "I feel so helpless too. I wish we knew where to start. I mean, I suppose we should talk to everyone around the Jeffersonian, at least to see if they say something…" Booth gave her an absentminded nod and she continued after a moment of thought. "Booth? I'm worried about Cam. I'm afraid…what if she's a part of this? She's been missing for a while and…what if she's the one who took Parker?"

"It wasn't her," responded Booth in a low, quiet voice. "I've known Cam for years and years. She would never do anything like that."

"Then where is she?" asked Brennan and Booth shrugged his shoulders in response. "Who do you think did it?"

Booth stood silently for a few seconds, a stricken look stealing across his face. "I'm afraid…Hannah," he finally replied, looking up worriedly at his partner.

"But Hannah was shot. How could she have done it?" Brennan's brow furrowed in confusion.

"She could have done it herself to make herself look innocent, couldn't she?" inquired Booth, leaning closer to her unconsciously.

"No," said Brennan definitively. "With the way the bullet entered her and where, it's impossible for her to have caused that injury herself. She would have had to bend her arm in an awkward and most likely unfeasible position. She couldn't have done it, Booth."

He nodded, chewing anxiously on his lip, still having suspicions about his girlfriend but now feeling ashamed of himself for feeling that way as well.

Before either could speak or move from their positions inches away from each other, Booth's phone rang, jolting the pair out of their staring match.

"Booth," he grunted into his phone, his eyes widening at whatever response he received. "Bones, turn on your monitor."

"Who is it?" she demanded, as she scrambled to follow his instructions. "Who is on the phone?"

"Bones, just do it!" he growled.

"I am, I'm doing it!" The screen powered on just as she spoke and both Booth and Brennan took a horrified step forward at what they saw. Cam was sitting in a metal folding chair in the middle of what looked like a basement, her hands tied behind her back and her legs bound in front of her. A piece of duct tape covering her mouth prevented her from speaking, but her eyes round with fear were saying volumes about her state of mind.

"Cam." The soft word escaped Brennan's disbelieving mouth as Booth shouted into the phone a few feet away from her, demanding to know who he was speaking to and where his son and pathologist were being held at. "This can't be happening."

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Thanks for reading! I would love reviews!


	11. Chapter 11

Hey, guys! Here's the next chapter. Thanks to the extra time I had over Spring Break, I managed to make it a little bit longer this time. Hopefully everyone enjoys it.

Important Side Note: Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and/or adding this story to their alerts/favorites list. I know I've said that before and all, but it's what keeps me going. So thanks bunches and bunches (:

Disclaimer: I don't actually own Bones, sadly enough.

B&B

Brennan was dozing in her office chair, head lolling to the side, her lips slightly parted in a way that had Booth staring. He felt inclined to be angry with her for succumbing to something as mundane as sleep when his son and longtime friend were missing, but he just couldn't seem to bring himself to blame her. She hadn't slept for over thirty six hours, after all, and neither had he for that matter. But despite his mental and physical exhaustion, sleep was giving him a wide berth what with all of the adrenaline coursing through his veins, urging him to chase down and simply kill the person who had spitefully snatched his pride and joy right out of his hands.

Hannah was still locked in a drug-induced sleep on Brennan's sofa and Booth somehow found himself standing over her, looking down into her beautiful, restful face that was free of worry or strain as she dreamt. Now that he thought about it, Hannah hardly had enough time to abduct Parker; he had only been gone a maximum of five minutes before she had started shouting. But ever since the idea of Hannah's guilt had entered his head, his realization that he didn't even really know her had refused to stop flickering in the back of his mind. His acknowledgement of it now brought it to the forefront of his mind and made him feel distinctly uncomfortable and undeniably guilty. What kind of person suspected their girlfriend of murder and kidnapping? Certainly not someone who knows their girlfriend enough to love them.

Sighing hugely, Booth stormed furiously back and forth across the room, battling the dizziness of the emotions surging over and around him like powerful gusts of wind in a thunder storm. If only there was something he could _do_, an action he could _take_, anything to save his little boy who was probably incapacitated by fear by that point. Not even bothering to fight back the helpless tears that were making hot, wet trails down his cheeks, he continued pacing, thinking, waiting.

Dr. Temperance Brennan was dreaming. In the back of her mind, she was aware that she was sleeping and her conscience was tugging at her, trying to remind her of a very good reason why she should be awake, but she was so caught up in her pleasant dream that she couldn't bring herself to be bothered by it.

"_What are you doing?" asked Booth as he meandered into Brennan's office, hands in pockets_

"_Throwing out my book." She answered nonchalantly, tossing pages into the trash can as she spoke._

"_It's still on your hard drive, right?"_

"_Nope, not anymore, it's not."_

"You erased it_?" Booth's eyes bugged out and he lunged forward to grab the papers from his partner's hands. "Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa." He waved his hands energetically in front of her much like a referee would to call a timeout. "Whoa, whoa, stop."_

"_But I don't wanna be a writer anymore." She pursed her lips and tried to pull the pages out of Booth's firm grasp._

"_Oh, why? Because of what that publisher said? He was an idiot, did you see his glasses?" He bent over, one hand clutching at Brennan's desk for balance, the other groping into the trash can to save Brennan's trashed work._

"_I don't wanna be a sexy scientist," persisted Brennan, looking rather put out by the idea._

"_Well, that's like me saying I don't wanna be a sexy FBI Agent," said Booth, his lips twitching in amusement. "We can't _change_ who we _are_." He stared at her as she stood frozen, an expression of disgruntlement pulling her lips into a pout. "Oh, God, this is just…ahh." He bent down and continued to retrieve all of Brennan's papers, slapping them into a pile on top of her desk while she collapsed into her chair. "It's not good for the back." Brennan ignored him, crossing her arms and blowing a huffing breath out between her lips as her head tipped back against her chair. _"Suspenseful and chilling."_ Brennan looked up with undisguised surprise. _"Temperance Brennan leads the pack. Anthropology has never been more exciting."

"_You memorized my reviews?"_

"_Angela can scan these and get them back on your computer," he responded, holding the thick stack of parchment in his hands._

"_You know my reviews, Booth, but…do you read my books?" She gazed at him in interest. For some reason, it was inordinately important to her to know the answer to her question._

"_Every single word," he replied with a crooked grin that plastered a smile right on Brennan's face in response._

"_You never said anything."_

"_Well, I figure, you know, I'm all over your real world. Why would you want me in your fantasy world too?" said Booth affectionately._

_Brennan privately felt that she would like to have him in pretty much her whole world; he was her partner, after all. She liked to share everything with him. When he held the sheafs of paper out to her and jiggled them enticingly, she finally gave in and snatched them out of his hands. "I can appreciate that."_

"_You see how this works, huh?" grinned Booth. "It's give and _take_. We're _partners_, huh?"_

"_Except you won't let me fix your back," Brennan fired back at him immediately._

"_Oh, come on, my back is fine. It's just—"_

"_Oh, really?" Brennan jumped to her feet and held her documents threateningly over the waste basket._

"_Oh, uh, uh." He threw his hands up beseechingly in surrender. "Okay, how do I know that you're not gonna like paralyze me or make it worse?"_

"_I also help you by explaining a lot of things to you," replied Brennan, dropping her papers onto her desk and walking around Booth to stand behind him._

"_Yeah, well, you know, I explain…" He turned his head sideways, trying to see what she was doing behind him, but he couldn't tell. "…things to you just as much as you explain to me…"_

"_Well, my things are more important." She finagled her arms under his armpits and wrapped her hands behind his neck._

"_Well, that's debatable." She maneuvered her hands so that a nasty pop rent the air, eliciting a pain-filled groan from Booth. "Ahh. Ow. Ow."_

"_Ah, necessary pain," explained Brennan, who seemed quite entertained by her role as the doctor._

"_Ah, yeah, necessary…ah…" She leaned both of their bodies forward and around in a circular motion. "The way you really help me is by letting me be a guy."_

"_I help you be a guy?" She let go of Booth, but maintained her position at the back of him._

"_Yeah, you know, it's a guy's _thing_ to fix things to make them right. When I fix things I feel like I am one with the universe. Bleh!" Booth nearly yelped when his partner nudged her fists into the small of his back, fixing his spine. "Ah, ha! Whoa. God. That is amazing! How'd you do that?"_

"_See, we help each other. Quid pro quo."_

"_I know what that means, quid pro quo," Booth was quick to inform her in a proud voice._

"_Sure you do," she said with an enigmatic smile._

"_I know a lot of things," he insisted._

"_Well," she disagreed, "you didn't know what mycophobia meant."_

"_Well you didn't know that you could just _take_ coffee grounds. It's garbage, you know, you don't need a warrant for that," argued Booth, gesticulating wildly with his hands._

"_I sort of knew that, I just was making sure that that was how it went," Brennan said defensively._

"_Sure, Bones. Whatever you say."_

_Brennan elbowed him in the side and laughed at the outraged "hey!" he threw at her as he rubbed at where she had hit him. Chuckling contentedly, she walked out of the Jeffersonian arm-in-arm with her partner, feeling exceptionally glad that she was Dr. Temperance Brennan._

Before she knew what was happening, the dream changed.

_She was sitting at the Royal Diner with Booth, Hannah, and Parker. Everyone was partaking in a conversation, but Brennan couldn't focus on anybody's words. All she could see was Parker's smiling face, shining with excitement as he told Hannah about his dad's partner, his adorably tousled curls, his warm, brown eyes. She tried to reach out and touch his cheek, but her hands wouldn't move. She stifled a frustrated cry, struggling against her invisible bonds, determined to get to her favorite little boy…_

"Bones."

"Ahh!" She sat bolt upright in her chair, eyes wide and searching as she scanned her surroundings in alarm. "What? What?"

"Sorry," said Booth sheepishly. "I didn't mean to wake you up. I could just tell you were having a bad dream."

"Yes," she muttered, shaking her head as if to clear out the cobwebs. "Yes. Parker…Parker…" Her voice broke and she hung her head, studiously avoiding looking at her partner. "Sorry I fell asleep, Booth," she finally said in a newly brisk tone. "I need to go examine the remains again. We need to find this…this…" A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she rubbed it away angrily.

Booth, who rarely saw her shed even a tear, couldn't help himself as his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, causing her to gaze to pierce his. "Don't work yourself to the ground, Bones. I know you're tired, you haven't slept in forever."

"I was just sleeping a few minutes ago," she contradicted, lifting her chin defiantly.

"Not for very long," he answered quietly, his fingers tightening around her wrist.

"Thank you for your concern, Booth," she replied tonelessly, the memory of their argument earlier in the day suddenly fresh in her mind. "I think I should be fine. But I really need to do what I can for Parker."

"Yeah," he said tremulously, letting go of her hand to run his fingers restlessly through his hair. "Me too." He didn't add that there was really _nothing_ he could do at that point.

Brennan, noting the anguish in his voice, took a few small steps closer, her hands folded anxiously in front of her and resting against her sternum. Upon a closer look, she realized that there were faint tear tracks running down her partner's face; they were nearly invisible until he moved his head, causing them to shimmer slightly in the glow of her desk lamp. Her right hand extricated itself from her left and began its hesitant journey towards Booth's face, pausing questioningly when it was about an inch away. Booth just stared at her with a tortured expression and her fingers touched his face softly of their own accord. Anything to help him feel better when he looked so devastated…

_Bzzt._

Brennan dropped her hand instantly, looking guilty as she glanced over at Hannah's sleeping form on her couch. With a sigh, she fished her phone out of her pocket, ignoring the way Booth was blinking rapidly, clearly trying to pull himself out of a daze.

"Brennan." Her eyes grew huge as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line and after only a few moments, she was scrambling to her desk and turning on her computer. "Yes, yes. Thanks so much." She slapped her phone shut and seated herself at her desk, waiting impatiently for her monitor to warm up. "Booth!" she snapped, waving her hand to get his attention. "Hey, we have a lead."

"A lead?" he repeated hopefully, standing directly behind her and resting one palm on her shoulder. She shivered slightly at his touch, but otherwise gave no indication that his presence provoked a reaction.

"When the kidnapper contacted us, your people at the FBI traced the signal and pinpointed a location. They just got there about fifteen minutes ago and they called us right away." Brennan twisted her neck around to meet his eyes, a happy smile breaking out across her face. "Cam was there. She was still tied up to that chair. Luckily, she's not hurt."

Booth tried for a smile, but his face fell. Although he was certainly immensely relieved that his friend and colleague was safe and sound, he was most concerned about Parker's welfare.

"They found Cam. Next, they'll find him," Brennan reassured him with a small smile.

"Yeah…of course," replied Booth, not quite capable of smiling back.

"I'm going to go take another look at the remains," she informed him, making to exit the room once again, a clipboard in hand. "Booth?" she said from the doorway. He glanced up at her expectantly, but Brennan merely opened her mouth a few times, found she wasn't sure what to say, and eventually just smiled sadly and walked away.

"I know, Bones," he whispered to her retreating form even though she was too far away to hear. "I understand. Thanks."

"Talking to yourself?" asked Angela, waltzing into Brennan's office with a stack of folders.

"No—ah, never mind," he mumbled with a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything. "What are you still doing here? It's late and you haven't slept for over a day."

"I know," nodded Angela, plopping down in Brennan's chair and closing her eyes tiredly. "We're all here. We love Parker too, you know. Especially Bren. She's, like, totally freaking out in there," she said matter-of-factly, opening one eye to squint up at him.

"Really? She was in here just a few seconds ago and she seemed fine." Booth's brow crinkled in consternation.

"Well, you're not the most observant person who ever lived—" began Angela, swinging the chair from side to side.

"Hey! I am too observant!" retorted Booth indignantly.

"—especially when it comes to Brennan these days. She hasn't slept in even longer than me and she is currently poring over those bones, searching for any and every clue. Do you know what this reminds me of?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the FBI Agent.

"Hmm."

"It reminds me of when we all thought you were dead a few years ago. When you were shot at that karaoke bar."

"I don't…want to talk about that," started Booth uncomfortably, but Angela cut him off with a raised hand.

"Shush. I'm trying to tell you something. Never interrupt a woman with a baby growing inside of her. Particularly if that baby is destined to be a soccer star when it grows up, what with all of its kicking and head-butting..." She rubbed her protuberant belly as she spoke, making a face. "Now, when you were supposedly dead, Bren threw herself into her work to the point of insanity. Like it would distract her from the pain or something. She does the same thing every time anyone is put in danger. It's really not healthy in any way. Could you just do me a favor and just make sure she's okay?"

"I should probably stay here with Hannah," replied Booth, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"Fine," snapped Angela, rolling her eyes as she got clumsily to her feet, clutching the desk in front of her for support as she lugged herself up. "You stay here with Sleeping Beauty. I'll go check on Brennan even though I know she won't talk to me." She glared pointedly at him, turned viciously on her heel, and stomped out of the office, inadvertently bumping into the couch as she passed by.

"Wha—?" slurred Hannah, stirring awake. "What's the matter?"

"They found Cam while you were asleep. They're taking her to the hospital now, I would think," explained Booth, coming forward and taking one of her hands in his with one last glance out the door that Angela had just exited.

Confusion skidded across her face as she processed his words. "Well that doesn't make any sense," she said slowly. "Why did they even take her in the first place if they were just going to leave her at the next opportunity they got? It all seems very pointless."

"I think…" began Booth in a trembling voice. "I think whoever it is that's doing this is trying to send me a message."

"You?" frowned Hannah, evidently not following his line of thought.

"They took my son. They shot my girlfriend. They abducted my close friend. I don't know, it just seems…seems like it's all revolving around me somehow."

"I'm sorry," whispered Hannah in the most heartfelt tone he had ever heard from her.

"Thanks," he responded appreciatively, trying for a smile.

"Where's Rebecca?" she asked, cocking her head curiously.

Booth sighed. "She's still up at the Hoover building, waiting to hear about Parker. I don't know if anyone told you before you fell asleep, but they pulled me off the case. They said I'm too close to it and mistakes are bound to be made if I pursue this investigation. The case has been passed over to some other agents at the FBI and I am forbidden to keep working on it." He paused. "I don't care what they say; if I get a lead on where I can find my boy, I'm following it. But the thing is, there's nothing so far. Nothing for me to do but just sit here and wait." His Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he fought for control of his emotions.

"I'm so sorry," Hannah murmured again, touching his cheek with a comforting hand. "I'm so sorry you're having to go through this."

"I'm sorry too," chuckled Booth humorlessly. "You're the one sitting here with a battle wound."

"I know! I can't believe they shot at me!" she trilled indignantly.

Looking into her eyes, Booth saw the genuine outrage and anger bubbling under the surface and he lost the last vestiges of suspicion he still had about her. Still, he didn't feel quite right about their relationship anymore, but he decided to ignore that for the time being. There were more important matters to be dealing with at the moment. "Me neither, babe. Me neither. Now let's get you some more painkillers and then I'll take you home."

"Mkay," she answered with a tired smile. "Sounds like a good plan to me."

Booth kissed her on the forehead and helped her to her feet. He was just getting ready to pull her in for a hug when a piercing shriek rang through the air, causing the pair to turn and stare into each other's eyes with horror.

B&B

Ahh, cliffhanger! I'll just tell you right now that it's Angela who screamed. That's all the hints I'm going to give, mahahah! Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it. Leave a review, if you want. Each one makes my life ten times better (:


	12. Chapter 12

Oh, my. Sometimes this story scares me with its singlemindedness. Seriously, it takes on a life of its own and I have absolutely no control over it. As always, I hope you like it!

Thanks again for all of the reviews. In all honesty, I think that I would have given up on this about six chapters ago without everyone's support.

Disclaimer: I will never in my life own Bones.

B&B

"I am utterly convinced," declared Angela, glancing impressively around at her husband as they strolled down the hallway.

"Huh?" he grunted, not even paying that much attention as he squinted at a text message on his phone.

Without warning, she stepped in front of him and turned around to face him. Sighing, she plucked the device out of his hand, hid it behind her back, and tipped his head so that he was looking into her eyes. "Ah, see, eye contact is one of the most important steps to _listening_ to somebody when they're _talking_ to you."

"Sorry, Ange," apologized Hodgins sheepishly, ducking his head. "I was listening. I just wanted to see if there was any more news concerning Cam or Parker."

"Oh. Well, then, you're forgiven." She handed his phone back over to him and continued walking down the hallway towards the stairs. "So were you really listening or were you just saying that?"

"You're utterly convinced." He paused. "Of what, again?"

"Sweets and Daisy! They're the only one who could possibly be messing with us so efficiently. It's gotta be them."

"Ange, we don't know that," muttered Hodgins weakly, but Angela just plowed on, clearly ignoring him.

"I think I'm going to call them and see if they answer," she decided independently, whipping out her phone, pressing a few buttons, and holding it to her ear. "Huh. It went straight to voicemail. Like it's turned off or something."

"Sweets' or Daisy's phone?"

"Sweets."

"Hmm. Try Daisy, I guess."

"Off," she shrugged after she tried to place the call. "Now what are we going to do?"

"I was going to go back upstairs and finish analyzing particulates. Do you need my help with anything down here?" asked Hodgins, placing a warm and tender hand over her belly.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks though." She smiled when her husband kissed her on the cheek and headed back towards the stairs.

"Good luck!" he called just before he left with a wave and a close-lipped smile tossed over his shoulder.

With a quiet chuckle that quickly faded into subdued silence, Angela crossed her arms over her swollen tummy and lumbered toward a closet on the edge of the room. Her hand touched the handle, but before she could turn it, muted thumps and shouts reached her ears and she glanced around in bewilderment. Frowning in bemusement, she made her way over to a closet on the opposite side of the room and yanked the door open.

"Jesus!" shrieked Angela, leaping backwards and throwing a hand over her heart in surprise.

"Thank goodness," sighed Sweets in relief as he clumsily got to his feet and helped up his girlfriend.

"What were you guys _doing_ in the _closet_?" demanded Angela, her hands curling into angry fists and landing intimidatingly on her hips. She slitted her eyes menacingly at them as if to say _You did _not_ just have sex in a closet at the Jeffersonian._ "There is actually a child missing, you know. And Cam has already been kidnapped and rescued in the time that you've been _hanging out_ in here."

"No, no, you misunderstand!" insisted Sweets in a loud, desperate voice. "We weren't…_doing_ anything in there. Someone deliberately trapped us in there!"

"I'm sure." Angela's glare deepened in ferocity and Sweets shrunk away from her.

"Seriously, Angela. Daisy and I came down here just to talk for a second and someone—someone _pushed_ us into the closet and closed the door!" By the end of his speech, Sweets' voice had taken on a tone of anger and indignation which unconsciously loosened Angela's fists and slackened her clenched jaw.

"How come you couldn't get out? There isn't even a locking mechanism on this door."

"There isn't a handle on the inside," chipped in Daisy dully, speaking up for the first time. "And there wasn't enough room in there to break the door down."

"What's the matter with you?" inquired Angela, raising an eyebrow at the unusually quiet and forlorn intern.

"Daisy's having a bad day," explained Sweets, putting a comforting arm around her as he spoke.

"Welcome to the club," muttered Angela.

"She just found out that her old roommate died in a car accident last night."

"Oh, God. That's terrible. I'm sorry, Daisy." Angela's voice had just enough warmth and sincerity in it to make the intern glance up at the forensic artist and smile slightly at her.

"Thanks," whispered Daisy, ducking her head again.

"You know, you could have just called one of us and we could have saved you from the closet," said Angela almost conversationally, tapping Sweets on the collarbone. "That way I might never have suspected you of kidnapping Parker and Cam."

"We didn't get any service in the—what!" screeched Sweets, eyes popping at Angela's casual statement. "You thought _we _had something to do with it?"

"Well, yeah. You guys weren't here when everything happened and you were acting _extremely_ suspiciously this morning," explained Angela calmly. "And you were super late getting to the Jeffersonian, Sweets."

"That's because Daisy's car broke down when she was on her way to get your coffees and she needed me to pick her up!" exclaimed Sweets, sounding deeply insulted at Angela's suspicions. "There was nothing we could do!"

"Well, you could have called."

"We did!" His eyes landed on Daisy, who had stiffened and ducked her head. "Didn't we?" he asked her, frowning. "Daisy, I asked you to call them while I was calling a tow truck…"

"I'm sorry, I forgot. Okay? I had just found out about my friend and it wouldn't have gotten us there any faster anyway," she snapped, clearly on the defensive.

Sweets opened his mouth to answer, but Angela cut him off. "Whatever. Not a big deal. Let's go upstairs and see what's going on with everybody."

Sweets and Daisy nodded meekly and followed Angela as she trudged back up the stairs, having completely forgotten what she had gone down there for in the first place.

B&B

"Has anyone seen Hannah?" asked Booth, not quite panicked yet but feeling a little bit rattled at her absence. "I told her to wait in Brennan's office while I went to see what was wrong, but she's not there anymore."

"I haven't seen her," replied Angela worriedly, scanning the platform fruitlessly. Daisy and Sweets, who had just relayed the story of their day to waylay any more sneaking suspicions, shrugged apologetically and glanced fretfully at each other. Brennan gasped and looked at Booth with wide, fearful eyes. The interns shuffled their feet uneasily and eyed each other with covert distrust.

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks," said Booth distractedly, running his hand through his hair and rubbing his pale face. "Well, if you happen to see her, would you just tell her to go to Bones' office? I'll be in there." He cocked his head at Brennan, motioning for her to follow him, and headed toward her office. At the last second, he turned and spoke to the crowd congregated on the forensic platform. "You obviously don't have to stay here tonight, but I would prefer it if you did. Either way, you should all go to sleep now. You're going to want to be ready and alert in the morning." With a final nod, he disappeared behind Brennan's door, the anthropologist herself just a step behind.

"Do you think something's happened to her?" demanded Brennan, perching herself precariously on the edge of the couch and folding her hands in her lap.

"I just don't know," sighed Booth, collapsing onto the sofa next to her and closing his eyes tiredly.

"You should really get some sleep too," whispered Brennan, placing a heartfelt hand on his arm. "You might feel a little better if you're not so sleepy."

"I can't sleep," croaked Booth after a moment of silence. "Every time…I close my eyes…" He couldn't suppress the sob that tore through his chest as he spoke. "God, Bones, they took him, they took my Parker. Maybe they took Hannah. What am I going to do?"

Brennan took his hand and pulled until his body slumped to the side and his head rested on her shoulder. Silently, she stroked her hand through his hair in a soft, soothing fashion, the way a mother would her child. "I know," she murmured, "I know." While she repeated these empty words like a mantra, Booth just cried into her shoulder, squeezing her hand until it went numb, and she found that this sort of helplessness and vulnerability was one of the most unpleasant things that she had ever experienced in her entire life.

After a while, Booth's eyes stopped streaming and his cheeks dried and he lifted his head from its position on Brennan's shoulder. "Sorry," he grunted hoarsely, blinking the remaining tears from his eyelashes. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I never get this emotional."

"Shh. It's okay. It's your son. You're supposed to get this emotional. Anthropologically speaking—"

"Not now, Bones," he groaned, chuckling humorlessly. "M'too tired. Let's find Hannah and go t'sleep."

"Okay," she answered so quietly that the sound of her voice didn't even reach her own ears. Yawning widely, she placed her hands on either side of her hips and pushed herself up from the couch. As she got to her feet, a quick flash of light caught her eye and she focused her attention on the couch once again. Frowning, she plunged her hand into the crack between the two cushions and groped around until she came into contact with something. With a triumphant hum, she retracted her hand and saw that she was holding…"A cell phone," she muttered to herself.

"What?" asked Booth, who had already made it almost to the door. "Did you say something?"

"This isn't your cell phone. Is it?"

Booth approached her and grabbed the hand holding the phone, moving it so that it was right in front of his eyes. "Sonovabitch," he uttered harshly. "Damn it, this is Hannah's!" Jumping into motion, he took the phone from Brennan, shoved it in his pocket, and practically leaped for the door.

"Wait, wait!" intoned Brennan, scurrying to keep up. "What does that _mean_?"

"Hannah doesn't go anywhere without her phone," explained Booth desperately. "She always keeps it with her. Somebody took her. Goddamn it!" He flew up the stairs to the forensic platform where all of the interns were huddled together on the floor in their sleeping bags. "Hey! Everybody, wake up!"

"What?" everyone mumbled, rising from their reclined positions and rubbing their eyes groggily.

"That's it. I'm done with this. Nobody else is going to be taken from right in front of my eyes or I swear to God…" His anger seemed to steal his ability to finish his sentence and his audience watched cautiously as he opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, steam practically rising from the top of his head.

"Whatsa matter?" grumbled Angela, emerging from her office and standing at the edge of the platform next to Hodgins. "We were trying to sleep."

"Hannah…" he growled. "Hannah…"

Angela put a hand over her mouth in alarm, appearing guilty and apologetic. "Oh, God. Sorry, Booth. I didn't know."

"I know you didn't," said Booth shortly, pacing intently. "Now, here's how it's going to be. I am handcuffing everyone together so that there will be no more disappearances. Got it?"

"What?" gasped Angela, evidently not a fan of the idea.

"I don't care," snapped Booth. "We're doing it."

"I'm _pregnant_, Booth."

"Fine. You and Hodgins can be handcuffed together. But I don't expect you to leave. Understand?" Booth glared at them ferociously until they nodded halfheartedly. "Good."

"What if we have to go to the bathroom?" whined Daisy, her hand in the air.

"You're gonna have to hold it or take everyone with you."

The interns groaned collectively and Booth scowled.

"What about me?" questioned Brennan, her brow furrowed anxiously.

Booth gazed at her intently for a moment, sizing her up. Finally, he answered. "You and me are going to be handcuffed together."

B&B

Thank you very much for reading! I certainly hope you will review. It would pretty much make my whole entire week (:


	13. Chapter 13

Well, this one's pretty short. I'm actually really surprised I got it done today; my month of April is crazy and I wasn't sure I would be able to write at all! With that in mind, I will work my hardest to update regularly over the course of the next month despite my busy schedule. If I fail to do so, I apologize in advance! It's not for lack of trying, I promise.

Again, thank you for the reviews, alerts, and reads! I do not know what I would do without them.

Disclaimer: It's still not mine.

B&B

Brennan stared at Booth for a moment, her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows so far up her forehead that they looked like they had disappeared permanently behind her bangs. Then, with an abruptness that surprised everyone, she began to laugh hysterically, her whole body sagging to the side so that she had to grab onto the examination table for support. The would-be gleeful sounds escaping her mouth echoed stridently around the platform, making her voice sound louder than it really was. With uneasy glances, all of the interns took a few steps backward, instinctively understanding that the anthropologist was angry, but seemingly unsure of what to do about it other than run in the other direction.

"No," she eventually stated, still attempting to smother the last of her laughter.

"What? _Yes_," insisted Booth urgently, stepping closer only to watch her take a step away from him. "Bones?"

"No."

"You don't get to say no," growled Booth, looking murderous. The loud click that snapped through the air as Booth closed a cuff around his left wrist caused everyone on the platform to jump slightly. "Damnit Bones, I am trying to keep you safe! If you stay with me, then I can protect you if someone comes after you!"

"I can take care of myself," hissed Brennan angrily.

"Yeah, and you know what? I'll bet Cam thought that too. And Hannah. But they were both taken. So I don't really care about your pride at this point." He jumped toward his partner, locked his fingers around hers, and clamped the other cuff around her wrist.

"Hey!" shrieked Brennan indignantly, pulling fruitlessly at her end of the handcuffs. "Damn it, Booth! Let me go!"

"No."

Brennan's fingers curled into fists and a petulant scowl made an appearance on her face.

"Well, that's certainly one way to do it, G-man," smirked Angela, leaning nonchalantly with her hip against the railing.

"Shut up," replied Booth, his face burning. "Come and get your handcuffs. I am going to watch you and Hodgins put it on."

"_Fine." _

Once the couple was locked together, Booth turned to Sweets and the interns. Pulling five sets of handcuffs out of nowhere, he beckoned Sweets forward to take them and hand them out to everyone.

"Where do you get all of these handcuffs, Booth?" asked Sweets, making sure to place himself at the end of the string of interns next to Daisy.

"Now that's top secret."

"I'm sure," scoffed Sweets.

"Is everyone attached to someone?" asked Booth, ignoring the psychologist. Everyone nodded their assent except for Brennan, who was too busy fuming. "Good. Now, go back to sleep. I know it may not be especially comfortable, but at least you will all be safe. Then tomorrow we can take it in turns to visit Cam at the hospital."

"Hmph," grunted Brennan, trying to cross her arms until she remembered that she couldn't.

"Come on, Bones," said Booth in a quiet, soothing voice meant to smooth her ruffled feathers. "We can sleep in your office. I'll get one of the security guards to get some extra pillows and blankets."

"Hmm."

"Are you going to be mad at me all night?" asked Booth, ushering her off the platform and towards her office.

"Maybe."

"Hey." He stopped and turned around to face her, gazing earnestly into her eyes. When she blushed slightly and looked down, he coaxed her face up with a finger under her chin and smiled kindly at her. "I don't want to wake up and find that you've gone missing."

Brennan's shoulders slumped and he knew he had won her over. "Okay," she whispered, almost smiling at him.

"Come on, we've reached the legal limit of hours awake," joked Booth, leading her into her office and seating himself on the couch with her next to him.

"No, Booth, there isn't actually a legal li—"

"I know, Bones. It was a joke."

"Oh."

"So are you sleeping on the couch, or me?"

"Well, it would make more sense if I slept on the couch since the pillow is on the far end and my right hand is cuffed."

"Or I could just sleep with my head on the other end of the couch and it would work out fine."

"I get the couch."

"Oh, come on, Bones! My back!"

"You put these stupid handcuffs on us against my will! Forgive me if I'm not feeling especially sympathetic to the condition of your back!"

"Come on, Bones, please?"

…

Brennan smiled triumphantly as she settled on the couch amid a pile of blankets and pillows. It had been a chaotic and confusing but ultimately entertaining process, putting together Booth's pallet on the floor and Brennan's bed on the couch. The partners had taken at least twenty minutes to set it up, pausing often to argue or squabble over something or another and frequently bumping into each other or impeding the other's pursuits. Sighing contentedly, she closed her eyes and mentally prepared herself for a long nap. She had only been resting for a few seconds before her partner sat on his pallet on the ground and slid under his covers…yanking her arm almost out of its socket as he did so.

"Hey!" she complained, her eyes snapping open to glare at him.

"Sorry, it was an accident."

His expression was one of utmost innocence and sincerity, but she couldn't help but send a suspicious glance his way. Rolling her shoulder a few times, she laid back into her pillows and attempted to fall into sleep again. Unfortunately, each time she finally began to succumb to the gentle lull of impending rest, she would either try to turn over and find herself unable to stretch her arm that far or Booth would inadvertently tug on her wrist in his sleep, jolting her awake. Finally, with a growl of frustration and exhaustion, she pushed the covers back with her left hand, climbed out of her makeshift bed, and slid onto the floor with a pillow under her arm. After nudging Booth to give her a little more room, he shifted in his sleep and she was able to fit perfectly in the cozy space between her sofa and her partner. With a sleepy groan of satisfaction, she at last drifted into a warm, dreamless sleep.

B&B

Booth slowly but surely entered into consciousness, feeling warmer and better rested than he had in a long time. Yawning groggily, he squinted his eyes open was met with the sight of lots of tangled, brown hair.

"Huh?" grunted Booth, opening his eyes fully and lifting his head so he could see. Brennan was sleeping, her hair covering her eyes and fanning out across Booth's arm, which she was using as a pillow. They were both lying on their sides facing each other and Brennan was so close to him that her nose was about an inch from his collarbone. Her hand was slightly curled into his undershirt, right above his heart, which he was sure must be beating quicker and quicker by the second. He was sure that her arm was going to be sore the next day considering the awkward position she had it bent in order to accommodate their handcuffed limbs, but she looked so peaceful that he didn't want to adjust it for fear of waking her. His arm that was free from restraint was slung around her waist, holding her close to him in a decidedly inappropriate way for two people who were meant to be partners and nothing more. Yet despite the intimacy of the situation, Booth couldn't find it in himself to pull away.

With a soft smile of tenderness and affection that he simply couldn't repress when in such a vulnerable state, he stared as his partner pressed even closer to him, grumbling incoherently in her sleep and burrowing her head further into his shoulder. Tomorrow he would feel the guilt of allowing himself to watch his partner so tenderly, especially considering that his girlfriend had gone missing mere hours earlier. But for the time being, he was determined to block the fear and guilt and plaguing emotions and simply live in the moment. Smile still lingering around the corners of his mouth, Booth fell asleep again, feeling only slightly ashamed for pulling Brennan a little closer to him as he did so.

B&B

Brennan jerked awake, breathing heavily as the images of her latest nightmare slowly fell away and she crashed back into reality. The first thing she noticed was that she was wrapped rather…interestingly around her partner Sincerely hoping that he was not aware of how entangled they had become over the course of the night, she gently extricated himself from his iron grip and sat cross-legged on the floor with her back against the couch, thinking intently. After her bête noire involving Parker and Hannah, she felt an understandable need to find them and rescue them. And to do that she needed…

"Keys," she muttered to herself, approaching Booth again and slipping her hand slowly into his pocket, her eyes locked on his face to gauge any signs of wakefulness. After only a few minutes of fishing around in his pocket, she found them. Glowing with her success, she immediately unlocked her handcuffs and stole out of the room, her feet barely making any sound at all as she padded away.

After a quick trip to the decontamination shower and change of clothes, the anthropologist headed up to the forensic platform and stood at the examination table holding the remains of Justin De Luca. An inexplicable sadness for the boy whom she had never even known grabbed hold of her before she could take control of her raging emotions and she sat down hard on the floor, battling desperately against the lump in her throat and the tears in her eyes. She sat there shaking for a while until, with a moan of frustration at the twin tears that leaked from her eyes simultaneously, she climbed to her feet, grabbed her coat and purse, and made for the entrance to the Jeffersonian, intending to walk to the Royal Diner for a coffee. But before she could even make it past the front of the building, a shout rent the air, causing her to skid to a stop and glance around.

"Temperance!" it came again and she instantly recognized the voice. Hannah.

"Where are you?" Brennan called back, but there was no answer. "Yell again, I'll find you."

A sharp scream reached Brennan's ears and she rounded the corner of the building at a run, her heavy purse slapping against her stomach painfully with each long stride. A dark blue van was idling at the curb and Hannah was tied up in the front seat, eyes wide with terror. Or so it seemed.

"Gotcha," whispered a gruff voice directly behind Brennan; she tried to spin around, but a blunt, metal object bashed into the back of her skull, knocking her out immediately. The last thing she saw before falling into the darkness was the satisfied smirk of Hannah Burley as she watched patiently and coldly from the van.

B&B

The end is in sight! I am aiming to be finished within the next two months, so only a handful of chapters are remaining. Thank you so much for reading, and I would absolutely lovee it if you would leave a review (:


	14. Chapter 14

Ohh, wow. Well, first of all, I am _really_ sorry. I am totally fired. I can't believe it took me so long to post this. Actually, I'm honestly surprised I had the opportunity to post this chapter today; I have like seventy five school projects due this week plus the ACT and an AP test and prom coming up...I'm sure none of you particularly care, but that is why I am a pretty busy lady. So with that in mind, I wasn't expecting to update this story until at least next Sunday. Hmm, I suppose that I should be congratulating myself on not letting y'all down too badly...but I still feel pretty bummed about my overall slacker-ness. Thanks for hanging in there, guys (:

Second of all...

_Intention_: Write a big, long, wonderful chapter that involves tons of action and a scene with Brennan kicking Hannah's butt and maybe even some BnB lovin'...

_Reality_: A very regular sized chapter with nothing terribly exciting. Sorry, everyone. Hopefully I can put some more fun stuff in the next chapter. I just wanted to put up what I have because I felt like it would be pretty bad form to just not update for weeks and weeks. So on that note, I will try to incorporate some of the aforementioned bits of action into the next chapter.

Third of all, this story is nearing an end, I can feel it! I have some ideas about the ending, and hopefully they will satisfy everyone's expectations. Probably they won't, but a girl can hope, right?

Fourth of all, you will all be glad to know that I now own Bones and...Hah. _Kidding._ As if that would _ever_ happen.

B&B

A bolt of what felt like electricity shot into Brennan's brain, pulling her from her unconscious state slowly and painfully as her forehead bumped against the cool glass of a window. Judging by the way her seat was bouncing her up and down, she was in a car and it was making its way down a gravel road. The sun was beating against her face and she was leaning against the left side window, so she deduced that the vehicle was heading south.

She tried to open her eyes, but found her eyelids were too heavy to lift; her eyelashes fluttered weakly against her cheeks as they fought against the sleepiness, but eventually, they stilled in surrender. Next, she tried to speak, ask for help, but found her mouth wasn't quite cooperating. Neither were her vocal chords it seemed; the only noise she managed to make was a small humming sigh that she could barely hear over the crunching of the tires over gravel.

Though her brain was moving at a sluggishly slow pace, she finally decided that her captors must have drugged her…

_Hannah_, she remembered, her gut wrenching horribly at the thought of her friend's betrayal. She could hardly believe it; she didn't want to. Her heart sinking until it seemed like it had dissolved altogether, Brennan allowed the drugs to pull her down into unconsciousness once again, not ready to face what had just become her new reality.

B&B

"Is there a reason why you're clutching that pillow like your life depends on it?"

Angela stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised in amusement. One half of a handcuff was dangling from her right arm.

"Wha-? Where's Bones?" demanded Booth, jolting upright and turning his head to scan the room so fast that he almost lost his balance and went crashing into his pillows again. Not seeing her anywhere, he glanced down to the set of handcuffs dangling from his wrist and the key laying inches from his left hand. His face darkened and a murderous expression took hostage of his features. Hands shaking in his fury, he glared up at Angela, sobering her up instantly. "Goddamnit," he spat, snatching up the key clumsily and slamming it into the lock on his handcuff, angrily freeing himself from the restraint. "I fucking told her…" At that point, he was overwhelmed by his anger and could only gesture wildly for a moment. "And you too, Angela? Really? I told you and Hodgins to stay together. There was actually a reason for those handcuffs. How did you even get them off without a key?" He smashed the discarded handcuffs against the floor and jumped to his feet, still scowling menacingly.

"Blow torch. Hodgins' idea," added Angela, looking impassively at him.

"So where is she, then? Examining the remains? Hiding out in Limbo? Going for a fucking coffee run where she could be taken or killed at any time?" He advanced on the forensic artist with such force that she drew backward a few steps, appearing alarmed by the depth of his anger.

"None of the above. I don't actually know where she is. I thought she was still in here with you and when I saw she wasn't I figured she was probably just hitting the bathroom or something." She put two cautious hands on his chest so that he could not move any closer to her. "And you need to calm down, Big Guy. Take a few deep breaths or something. I'm sorry if you're upset with Brennan, but that does not mean that you should take it out on me."

"Yeah, sorry," said Booth shortly, raking a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't feel comfortable not knowing where she is, Ange. We need to find her. Now."

"You got it. I'll help you look. Hodgins will too." Smiling softly at him in a reassuring way, she turned and marched for the forensic platform.

B&B

A hoarse scream rent the air as Brennan tried to call for help through the cloth shoved between her teeth, pulling desperately against her bonds. She was tied to a wooden pillar and as far as she could tell from what little she could see, she was in a basement of some sort. Try as she might, she couldn't remember how she had gotten there and she certainly had no way of gauging how long she had been gone, but based on the pounding headache she was experiencing, the constant bumping of her forehead against the glass in the car had given her a bruise. Frantic to escape her confines, she twisted her hands harshly against the ropes looped around them until her wrists were chafed and sore.

"Stop struggling, Temperance," ordered Hannah from right behind her and the anthropologist jumped, cricking her neck as she tried to turn and face her captor. The first thing she saw of her was her clunky, black high heels as the woman sauntered to stand in front of her. "Look, I'm actually sort of sorry about this. You were really starting to grow on me."

Brennan tried to fire a snarky remark back, but found she could only make a low snarling noise through the material in her mouth. Sighing heavily, Hannah yanked the fabric from between the anthropologist's teeth, almost getting nipped by Brennan's sharp incisors as she did so.

"Booth's going to find us. And he's going to arrest you," growled Brennan, leaning forward as far as her restraints would allow her in a predatory sort of way. "You don't get to just _get away_ with this."

"We'll see," quipped Hannah, scratching her chin unconcernedly. "Fortunately, that's not really an issue I have to deal with at the moment.

"Oh, I think it is," retorted Brennan with a hate-filled glare at the woman standing in front of her.

"No, see, Seeley thinks that I have been taken captive as well. He would never dream that I'm involved in this. And that's why I need you to brush up your acting skills; we are going to be making a home video."

"What?" asked Brennan, nonplussed, as Hannah mussed up her own hair and rubbed her eyes so that her make up would appear smudged.

"Ready," Hannah called out to no one in particular, indicating to Brennan that there must be a camera trained on them. Before she could worry too much over that, the sound of heavy footsteps coming down stairs reached her ears and she looked around, trying to ascertain where the door to the basement was located. Unfortunately, it seemed to be located on the opposite side of the basement where she couldn't see because a low chuckle sounded from right behind her.

"Ah, Dr. Brennan. I always did get a kick out of you. Who knew one person could offend so many people in one afternoon?" The owner of the sneering voice finally stepped into Brennan's view, revealing himself to be a plain-looking man with short brown hair, short legs, and an almost shrunken figure. For the life of her, she could not recall who he was or where she knew him from. "And don't you look like a damsel in distress, Moth. Very good."

"Moth?" questioned Brennan, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

"Wonderful code name, isn't it?" He beamed with an almost ridiculous look of serenity.

"I can't see how."

"Haven't you ever confused a moth for a butterfly, Dr. Brennan?" he asked, his condescending smile faltering for just a second when she shook her head seriously. "Of course not, look who I'm talking to. The world renowned anthropologist. Huh. Well, regular people often see a moth and think it's so pretty and delicate that it must be a butterfly. Nobody likes moths, but everyone finds peace in the sight of a butterfly."

"No, I don't," disagreed Brennan definitively. "I don't see why anyone would. But are you saying that Hannah is representative of the moth that was mistaken for a butterfly? Because I don't think that's especially clever at all. It doesn't even really make much sense, if you think about it…"

"_It. Was. Very. Clever," _hissed the man, a scowl replacing his unnerving smile.

"Look, what do you want?" snapped Brennan.

"What do _I _want?" His eyes gleamed manically. "I want Booth. More specifically, I want Booth to suffer." He smiled broadly, his grey eyes narrowing in malicious joy.

"Do you? Fine. You've got me, you've got _Hannah." _She spat the name, clearly disenchanted with the woman whom she once held in esteem. "I'm sure that constitutes more than enough suffering. Now, tell me where Parker is?"

"Oh, Moth is taking good care of the boy. Aren't you, my dear?" smirked the man.

"I certainly am," said Hannah seriously. "We're good friends, you know. Me and Parker."

"Don't you touch him," snarled Brennan, and for a moment she looked so dangerous that both Hannah and the man took a small step back, forgetting the fact that she was tied up and had no way of causing them any harm.

"Don't worry, I haven't hurt him," Hannah insisted, pulling a length of twine from her back pocket. "And I don't plan to. Now, back to the point. Could you tie me up?" she asked of the man, holding out the twine with a quirked eyebrow. Nodding, the man knotted the bonds around her wrists and looped the remaining twine around the same wooden pillar that Brennan was attached to.

"Okay, ready?" The man left Brennan's line of sight for a second and returned with a small video camera. He pressed a button and a red light came on. "Go."

"Seeley, help!" Hannah pleaded in a convincingly devastated voice. "They've got us—we're in a basement somewhere…" A few stray tears trailed down her cheeks; she was an excellent actress.

"No, Booth! She's-!" Hannah discreetly pushed her heel into Brennan's knee, drawing a long, keening cry from the anthropologist.

"They're hurting us," Hannah sobbed, blinking away more phony tears. "Please. Please, no!" She stared into the corner with wide, fearful eyes, cringing away slightly as if something ghastly was placed there. "No!" She nodded slightly and the man stopped the recording. "That was a wonderful performance, don't you think?"

"_Oh, God_," groaned Brennan, fighting back her own tears at the hopelessness of the situation.

"Get comfortable, Dr. Brennan," grinned the man, turning off the video camera and moving toward the basement door, Hannah following close behind. "You're going to be here for a while."

"No," she groaned, a sob bubbling out of her throat as she was left to wallow in her misery.

B&B

"Where is she? She's not anywhere. I do _not_ have a good feeling about this," babbled Booth, twisting his hands agitatedly.

"Maybe she went for a coffee, like you said?" suggested Angela, but she was worried too.

"She wouldn't _do_ that," said Booth fervently, looking for all the world that he knew exactly what he was talking about. "I told her last night that what I was most afraid of was waking up and finding her gone. She wouldn't do that to me."

"Okay, then…"

"Guys!" shouted Hodgins in a slightly higher-pitched voice than normal. "We just got an email…"

Booth only had to watch the first four seconds of the video before he was flying off the platform and running out of the Jeffersonian, calling his boss at the FBI as he went.

B&B

That's all she wrote! For now at least. Thank you so much for reading! Leave a review, if you have the chance. And if you already have, then you rock, thanks so much (:

By the way, congrats to Still A Mystery, ComeSomedaySoon (way to call it so far ahead of time, that was awesome), SquintytotheBone, and anyone else who guessed it was Hannah. I'm impressed. Rock onn


	15. Chapter 15

Oh my goodness, I am _so_, so sorry for my slackness in updating this story. I would love to regall you all with my excuses for such negligence, but I am sure that no one is particularly interested in that, so I will proceed right into the story. One extra long (sort of) update, coming right up!

Thanks again for all of the reviews, guys. I hope you know how much I appreciate them. Just about as much as I appreciate candy and ice cream and all sorts of other wonderful things (:

Disclaimer: It's actually still not mine

B&B

Booth shoved his phone into his pocket the minute the call was ended and leaned his forehead against the cool wall, breathing heavily. Tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes and his hands were shaking. He couldn't believe things had gotten so out-of-control, couldn't believe he was such a failure at protecting the people he loved. A white-hot fury swept through him, wiping his mind blank and dulling his vision with its intensity. Hatred such as he had never experienced before turned his cheeks red and his hands white. He had never wanted to kill anyone, but right now, there was nothing he would rather do.

Desperate to unleash just a little bit of his rage, he allowed a low, guttural cry to escape his lips as he banged his clenched fists against the wall in frustration. When that wasn't enough, he kicked at the wall vehemently, hoping for even the smallest amount of release, but nothing made him feel better. Sniffling, he wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and prepared himself to face the team again. The only way to feel better was to find his son and his girlfriend and his _Bones _and make sure the man who took them suffered for his actions.

B&B

"I just called the FBI," panted Booth, rushing onto the platform again; the alarms blared when he forgot to swipe his card, but he didn't even turn around as one of the security guards quieted the system. "They're tracing the origin of the video."

"Do you think the FBI will be able to get there before they leave?" asked Angela anxiously, rubbing a nervous hand across her swollen belly.

"I don't know, but even if they do escape before we arrive, maybe they will leave either Parker or Bones or Hannah," said Booth with a shadow of hope stirring in his eyes.

"I hope so," replied Angela softly, turning worried eyes toward her husband.

"Maybe there's a pattern forming here," offered Hodgins, smiling soothingly at his wife. "Last time they left Cam; maybe this time they'll leave Dr. B."

"Or Parker," whispered Angela.

"Or Hannah," he nodded with a tired sigh, already turning to step off the forensic platform. "Angela, Hodgins, I need you to activate Bones' GPS on her phone. Maybe she still has it on her and we can track her that way."

"Sure thing," replied Hodgins immediately, turning towards his computer.

"You can handle this, right?" asked Angela, turning pleading eyes on her husband.

"Of course." He took both of her hands in his and placed a light kiss in each palm. "It's going to be okay. I promise. We'll get them back."

Angela nodded, attempted a smile, and shuffled off the platform after Booth.

"Hey, wait up," she called, feet slapping loudly against the floor as she rushed to catch up to the agent. "Thanks," she said breathlessly when she reached him. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," he agreed quickly, but his longing glance toward the exit did not escape Angela's notice.

"Don't worry, I won't be long. I know you want to find your family. I was just wondering…can I come with you?" She had been examining her protuberant belly button as she spoke, but she finally glanced up with beseeching brown eyes. She began to fidget when he didn't respond right away. "I'm just…she's my best friend. And I'm worried about her too," she explained, biting her lip as she waited for him to speak.

"Look, Ange," he finally began regretfully, and her face fell at the tone of his voice. "I know that you want to come along, but if we have too many people working on this at once, there is a bigger chance that someone is going to screw up. And I don't know what I would do if you somehow got taken too; a guy can only handle so much, you know?"

Angela nodded mutely, crestfallen.

"But I could use your help with something else though. I was going to visit Cam today, but I guess my plans have been changed for me." He laughed bitterly, his eyes hard. "But I don't want her to be alone at the hospital. Could you go keep her company for me? She needs someone to pick her up later anyway; luckily, she only suffered a minor concussion, so she is going to be discharged tonight."

"Sure," she agreed quietly. "That's a good idea, I guess. She's not going to be happy if she wakes up all alone… And she probably wants to be updated on how the case is going."

"Yeah, well. Have Hodgins call me when he finds—"

"Hey, Booth!" yelled the entomologist in question from the other end of the hallway. "It says that her phone is here…right outside the Jeffersonian…"

"Where?" demanded Booth, expecting him to follow as he charged out the door and began scrutinizing the ground in front of the institution.

"It says you're right on top of it," said Hodgins, squinting down at the ground too.

"Damn it," muttered Booth as he bent down and picked up the device. "Now there's no way to follow her if they move her."

"What about Hannah's phone?" asked Hodgins as Booth's phone started ringing.

"Sure, look it up," he answered, picking up his phone as he spoke. "Booth." He listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line and was launching into motion before he even finished the call. "Thanks." He thrust his phone into his pocket as he sprinted for his SUV. "Call me when you find something, Hodgins," shouted Booth as he ran. "I'm going to find my son and my partner."

"And your girlfriend," Hodgins reminded him under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

B&B

"Hey, Cam," smiled Angela, taking the pathologist's hand. "I'm glad you're awake. I was getting bored here all by myself…"

"Oh, God, get me out of here," groaned Cam, wincing as she sat up on the hospital bed. "What happened?"

"You have a concussion. And it appears you were drugged for a while…don't you remember anything?"

"Hmm." She screwed up her face in concentration. "Not a thing."

"You don't remember…being kidnapped? Or any of that?" asked Angela disbelievingly.

"I remember…bits and pieces…but I can't…" She buried her face into her hands. "I just feel really confused. And tired."

"It's okay," replied Angela soothingly, rubbing circles into Cam's hand with her thumb. "Why don't you just go back to sleep; they're going to discharge you in a few hours, they said, and I will drive you back to the Jeffersonian."

"I need to go home to Michelle," mumbled Cam, eyes clouded with sleepiness.

"You're not as safe there, Cam. We can discuss bringing Michelle to the Jeffersonian, but I don't think you should be all on your own until this guy is caught," said Angela seriously.

"Mmm," hummed Cam, falling into sleep even as Angela spoke. With a sigh, the forensic artist pulled the blanket up higher on the sleeping woman's body and settled down in her chair, hoping for a nap of her own.

B&B

Booth was at the front of the pack as the SWAT team stormed the long vacant bookstore. Finding the first and second stories clear, the FBI agent led the way downstairs, breathing a long sigh of relief at the sight of blonde, straggly hair strewn across the floor. As he neared the yellow beacon, a body came into view, one of a slender, fair-skinned woman. Hannah. A needle was poking out of her wrist and her eyes were slightly open, but only a strip of white was visible since her eyes had rolled back in her head.

"I need a medic over here!" he shouted as he scrambled to her side, brushing her golden locks out of her face. "Wake up, baby. Wake up." He pulled the needle out of her skin and pushed his fingers lightly against her wrist, taking her pulse.

"Alive?" asked one of the members of the SWAT team, kneeling down to examine her as well.

"She's alive," breathed Booth, stroking her cheek gently. "But she needs an ambulance. Weren't they right behind us?"

"Yeah, but they had to come in without their sirens on. They should be here within the next two minutes."

"Come on, baby," urged Booth, shaking her slightly. She groaned in response, but it was so soft it could barely be heard. "Damn it, where is that ambulance?"

"It just got here!" yelled a voice from the other side of the room.

A couple EMTs swooped over with a stretcher and loaded Hannah onto it, carefully laying her head down on the thick material. Swiftly, they marched her back through the bookstore and out toward the ambulance, Booth clearing a path for them as they went. Refusing to stay behind and help examine the crime scene, he jumped into the back of the ambulance as soon as Hannah had been settled back there and held her hand the entire way to the hospital.

B&B

"_Vodka?"_

_Brennan glanced up from her glass in surprise and smiled at the man standing before her. Laughing, she responded. "It's water. But it's on the rocks."_

"_You know, Bones," replied Booth, moving closer. "I'm not sure you grasp the basic theorem of how to get drunk. Okay?" He groaned as he grabbed a chair, a spurt of pain shooting up his arm. "What you need to do is order a shot of hard liquor from a bartender named Shakey—heh—and tell him to, uh, leave the bottle on the bar." He smiled at her._

"_I'm fine…Booth." She stared down into her drink again, half of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth. "I'm sitting here thinking about it and…I'm fine." Setting her glass down, she looked up at her partner with big, blue eyes that fought hard to conceal what she was really feeling. But Booth knew her better than she knew herself sometimes and there was really no point in trying to hide from him._

"Okay_. What I'm getting from ya here, Bones, is that you're fine." He nodded, as if in agreement with himself._

_She looked at him for a moment, sadness creeping into her eyes, before taking a deep breath, turning away, and picking up a picture from the table beside her. Sarah Koskoff. _

"_He murdered Sarah," she began, her voice slightly unstable. "He was about to murder Helen. You know, why should I…feel _upset_ about shooting him?" He sounded like she was trying to convince him of the morality of her actions, but he knew that she was really being so defensive because she was trying to convince herself. "You know, I mean, if I was _going_ to be upset, which I'm not, it would be because Epps thinks he beat us, so…" She turned her eyes toward the girl in the picture again, noting her blonde hair, her healthy complexion. She had so much life ahead of her…_

"_He didn't," stated Booth definitively, nodding his head slightly._

"_I know," answered Brennan quickly, not looking away from the picture._

"_You're upset because you think he beat us." She regarded him uncertainly, not comfortable with the fact that he could read her so easily. "And you know what?" She avoided his gaze, scrutinizing the picture again. "He did."_

_Her gaze snapped back to his and she stared at him, confusion evident in her eyes. "Beat us?" she asked._

"_Yeah."_

"_Well, you just said that he didn't!"_

"_Well, I changed my mind," he said in a perfectly calm, serious voice._

"_What, in the last three seconds?" She made a face at him, which he ignored._

"_You know, you're afraid that Epps turned you into him. Into a killer. You have to come to grips with the fact that you killed another human being. Because when you kill someone…you know, there's a cost." She nodded her understanding. "It's a steep cost. I know. I've done it."_

"_I did the right thing," she insisted, her eyes unfocusing slightly._

"_I know." She met his gaze again. "I was there." He gave her a hint of a small, reassuring smile._

_A hot tear slipped down Brennan's cheek and landed on the picture she held in her small hands. Sighing, she wiped it away with her thumb. "Look what I did."_

_Booth chuckled slightly in response. "It doesn't matter."_

"_It does, it matters," she maintained tenaciously, settling her bright blue gaze on him in all seriousness._

"_I got something for ya,"grinned Booth, reaching into his pocket excitedly._

"_A bottle of hard liquor?" she guessed facetiously._

"_Nah. Next best thing." He leaned toward her, a small, plastic pig lying in the palm of his hand. "Hmm?" He chuckled. "Meet…Jasper."_

_They both grinned at each other for a moment, before Brennan reached her hand out and took the pig, holding it close to her face so she could observe it more clearly. "Aww," she laughed, clearly touched by the gift._

"_You're gonna be okay," he assured her, nodding his conviction._

"_Yeah?" she asked, her voice higher than usual._

"_Definitely."_

Brennan was awoken by an uncomfortable wetness itching her cheeks. It took her blurry mind a second to understand, but eventually she realized that she was crying.

She was scared. She didn't know how long she had been gone and she didn't know what her kidnappers wanted from her. All she wanted to do was find Parker and get out of there, but judging by the fact that she couldn't feel her lips and the rest of her body was being similarly uncooperative, she was sure that she had been drugged again. Until she had full function of her body, her ability to incapacitate her abductor and escape was severely impaired.

Besides that, she missed her partner. She wished she could hear his voice, feel his large, warm hand on the small of her back. She wished that he had some way of reassuring her, talking her through her situation and making her feel better like he always did.

Another tear glided down her cheek and she squinted her eyes, trying desperately to see, but it appeared that there was a blindfold of some sort tied around the upper portion of her face, preventing her from ascertaining her location. Sighing distraughtly, she crooked her head so that it could rest awkwardly on her shoulder and waited for sleep to take her again, unwilling to continue suffering through the nightmare her waking world had become.

B&B

Booth hesitated at the doorway to Cam's hospital room, his knuckles an inch away from the door frame where he was about to knock. Soft, choking sobs were echoing from inside the room and the sound gave him pause. Was Angela crying? He knew he should go inside and make sure she was okay, but he wondered if maybe Angela just needed a few minutes to get it out. Uncertain, he wavered in the doorway, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the next.

The floor beneath him creaked unexpectedly and he winced as Angela's quiet weeping came to an abrupt halt. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the room, a solid and heartening smile plastered onto his face.

"Ange."

"Oh…oh!" she gasped, surprised at his sudden presence. Sniffling slightly, she dried her tears with the back of her hand and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Sorry, Booth." Her voice was lower and more rumbly than usual due to her crying and her nose and eyes were red and damp. "Cam's asleep right now."

"I see," replied Booth, turning kind eyes on her. "You okay, Ange?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she assured him, giving him a watery smile.

"Come on, Angela," coaxed Booth. "You can talk to me about it. I know you're not okay. I'm not either. Maybe we can help each other get to the point where we are okay."

"I'm—I'm just worried about Brennan," she finally responded in a wavering voice. "She's my best friend. I mean, what if she's scared and alone somewhere? What if they're hurting her?"

"Bones doesn't scare easy, Ange. And even if she does get scared, it only spurs her to work harder at finding a solution. And you know how she is. If they even try to hurt her, they will find themselves flying across the room faster than they can even think about how they got there." He chuckled at the thought, but found that it didn't ease his own worry; all of the thing Angela had just mentioned were concerns of his too.

"Seriously, Booth," said Angela earnestly. "I'm so scared. We don't even know where to _begin_ looking for her. I'm just afraid we may never find her. And Parker…"

Booth stiffened at the mention of his son's name, completely sobered. "Yeah. Bones and Parker. My partner and my son." He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "It seems like they want me doesn't it? Like it's _me_ they're after."

"I don't know, Booth…" whispered Angela noncommittally, but she was gazing at him curiously.

"You know what Angela? You're right." He nodded solemnly and Angela stared expressionlessly at him, having absolutely no idea to what he was referring to. "I am going to find them. _Today._" And he stormed out of the hospital room, leaving a baffled Angela and newly awoken Cam in his wake.

"Was that Booth?" moaned Cam groggily, rubbing her eyes blearily.

"Yep."

"He didn't want to hang around and make sure I was doing okay?"

"Guess not."

"Hrumph."

B&B

"But do you know when she's going to wake up?" demanded Booth agitatedly, standing intimidatingly close to the slightly nervous-looking doctor.

"Whenever she's ready, Mr. Booth."

"Special Agent, actually. Special Agent Booth." He glared at the doctor who blinked twice, working hard to keep the fear out of his expression. "Can't you _make_ her wake up or something?"

"Is she your girlfriend, _Special Agent_ Booth?" inquired the doctor, much to Booth's disgruntlement.

"Yes. But that doesn't matter. I asked you a question."

"She's your girlfriend? Then you should let her rest. She really needs it." He paused, glancing almost fearfully at Booth's face. Shaking his head slightly, he stiffened his resolve—and his spine—and continued in a strong, firm tone. "Look, you're just going to have to be patient. She'll wake up eventually." The doctor gave him a half-pitying, half-superior glance before turning on his heel and heading out the door.

"Damn it," growled Booth, throwing himself into a chair at Hannah's bedside. "Wake up, baby. We need you to help us solve this mystery."

With a great, rattling sigh, he took Hannah's hand in both of his own and bowed his head. If there was ever a time to pray, this was most certainly it.

B&B

I have to admit, I kind of despise Hannah. Not that I had any particular liking for her before. I was securely in the Not-A-Fan-Of-Hannah-Burley camp from the very beginning, but that was just mainly on principle. Now, after re-watching all of the earlier episodes of Season Six (including the ones I originally skipped because they were a little too Hannah-centric for my tastes) I just plain dislike her. What the heck were they thinking, putting her in the show, anyway? And really, why the heck is she still in my story? I am severely disappointed in myself for not having exterminated her yet. Hmm. I suppose I should probably get on that straightaway.

Should she go to prison for life? Be subjected to the death penalty? Escape, never to be found again? Get away with her plotting and scheming? find herself thrown under a train? Ahh, the possibilities...

Thank you for reading, I am so glad you took the time to. Reviews are always warmly welcomed (:


	16. Chapter 16

Hello, all! Here is the next chapter. I must warn you, Hannah remains. But don't fret! She will not be among us for long. It is just taking a while to write the part where she finally leaves forever (hallelujahhhh). I think you'll like it anyway (fingers crossed). Enjoy!

Wait, wait, I just really quick wanted to express my gratitude to those who have been reviewing. I can't thank you guys enough! Seriously. The reviews from last chapter were particularly inspiring, so thank you so much! Alright, onto the chapter!

Disclaimer: Uh-uh.

B&B

"Bones,_ we're not supposed to be down here yet," fretted Booth, walking half a step behind her as they made their way down the carpeted staircase._

_She chuckled in response. "You're with me, Booth. This was my find; you're not going to get into trouble." She stepped carefully onto the floor and shot her hand out as Booth went to do the same. "Don't—don't step on that."_

"_Ah, God, this is so cool!" he exclaimed, quickly getting out of the way. Brennan laughed happily. "Well, so he wasn't trampled by his brother?" he continued after a momentary pause._

"_No." She pointed. "Meti suffered from osteogenesisimperfecta." He leant down to peer through a glass case at her, silently begging her to elaborate. She bent to meet his gaze and smiled her acquiescence. "Otherwise known as brittle bone disease. Meti's fall from his horse killed him." She gesticulated passionately. "Anok was innocent; his mother was right."_

"_So it only took three thousand years for someone to hear her. You know, I tell you what, if I was Egypt, I'd throw you a party too."_

_Bones laughed softly for a moment, but her face soon clouded over with consternation and she huffed a tired breath through her teeth. "I have to speak." She shook her head. "I hate these things."_

"_What are you talking about, Bones? You're _great_ at these things! Listen, you changed history. How many people can say that?"_

"_You can! Every arrest you make changes history, you make the world safer."_

"_With your help." She smiled, clearly pleased with his compliment, and he stared at her, trying hard not to appear too lovesick. He took a step closer and so did she. "So, Andrew. I thought you were gonna take him to this thing. That's what he told me."_

"_I was, yes, but…you and I, this was…our case and I guess…what goes on between us, that should just be ours. Isn't that what you said?" She gazed up at him with a slight smile curling her lips, inching closer and closer to him as she spoke._

_Booth blinked and glanced involuntarily toward her lips. "Yeah."_

_Their noses came within an inch of each other as they leaned together, eyes wide and unblinking as each stared at the other…_

_The moment was broken as a burst of laughter and delighted conversation flared from the top of the staircase, causing the pair to take a hasty step away from each other._

"_Come on, you two! The ambassador's about to speak." Angela pointed and waved her glass of wine, clearly unaware of what she had interrupted. Beaming with pleasure, she turned and followed the rest of the group back up the stairs to rejoin the party._

_Booth almost immediately turned his gaze again to Brennan, reveling in her beauty and wondering at the fact that he had almost just gotten the opportunity to kiss the woman with whom he had been in love with for so many months. Her eyes flitted toward his face for a moment, but almost immediately cast downward. She put her hands to his already impeccable bow tie and straightened it needlessly while he brushed a lock of her hair back. Clearing his throat, he spoke._

"_Thanks."_

_Turning simultaneously, they made their companionable way back toward the rest of the party._

She was lost in a haze, stuck somewhere between slumber and wakefulness. Truthfully, she neither wanted to dream nor to awaken, so it was a pleasant place for her to be.

She should have done it. She should have just kissed him. Why had that been so hard for her at the time? Why had she felt almost relieved when Angela had interrupted them? For someone who prided herself on being so intelligent, she had certainly been foolish.

_Maybe if I had just taken a chance and kissed him, we wouldn't all be in this mess,_ she thought dully, ruminating regretfully on Booth's relationship with Hannah. _Not only would I be happy, but Booth would be happy. Even if only because his girlfriend wouldn't then be a psychotic._

For a few minutes, she gladly took the blame, mentally berating herself for her actions. But then Booth's words once again came unbidden into her mind.

_You know, I'm with someone, Bones, and Hannah, she's not a consolation prize. I love her._

Her fault? How could she consider it to be her fault? Booth was the idiot who decided to get involved with a certified maniac. She couldn't be blamed for Booth's poor choice in women. Anger and frustration and just plain petulance rose up in Brennan like a tide, her indignation at Booth for allowing this to happen growing with each passing second.

After a few tense moments, her irrational feelings subsided and she was left once again in a dull, nearly mindless state. She sighed, not even registering the fact that she once again had full use of her lips. Dissatisfied with the direction her thoughts were heading, she sank once again into blissful blankness, not wanting to remember.

B&B

Booth never took his eyes off of his girlfriend for more than two seconds at a time. He was determined to be alert and prepared to listen to her story the second that she came into consciousness. His eyelids were drooping even as he stared and his face was slipping dangerously down his hand, which it was resting on, before Hannah stirred. The exhausted agent snapped back into full cognizance instantly, pulling Hannah's hand into his lap.

"Hi, there," he said softly, smiling slightly at her. "How ya feelin'?

She groaned. "Headache," she finally rasped, before clearing her throat and taking a sip from the bottle of water that Booth passed to her. "Other than that, I'm as fit as a fiddle. I don't need to stay in the hospital."

"You have to stay, at least for a little while. You were drugged and the doctors want to make sure they don't have lasting effects."

"Come on, Seeley, you know as well as I do that they worked to knock me out and now the damage is done. I can leave. _Soon._"

"Fine," agreed Booth, eager just to ask her about what she knew. "But first, tell me what happened."

A look of quiet terror broke over her face, but Booth couldn't worry about her feelings at the moment. He nodded at her in reassurance and she dove into her story after a few calming breaths.

"I was walking outside just for a second to make a phone call. This big blue van raced around the corner and a man hopped out, forcing me into the back. I tried to scream, but he stuck this needle into me and the next thing I knew, I was in this basement somewhere, alone. Eventually, I fell asleep again, and when I woke up, I was chained to wooden pole and _Temperance_ was there. I couldn't believe she had been abducted too. After that, our abductor filmed us and then…it's all black. He must have drugged me at that point, because I don't remember anything else."

"What did this man look like?" asked Booth gripping her hand a little tighter.

"Um, I don't know how to describe him. He was very…plain-looking. He had no distinguishing feature or anything."

"Did he mention…me at all?" inquired Booth, looking as if he feared the answer.

"Actually, yeah, he did. I don't know what he said, he was kind of muttering under his breath…" She sounded so sincere, but there was an evil gleam in her eye.

"Did he ever say where he was going to go or what he was planning to do?"

"Not that I heard."

"Do you know anything else that you can tell me. What he sounded like when he spoke, what he smelled like, who he may have reminded you of. Just anything. Even something that seems insignificant." His voice was desperate and pleading, but she shook her head, looking only slightly apologetic.

"Sorry."

Booth pursed his lips, closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, and jumped abruptly out of the chair, practically running toward the exit. Hannah's hand, which had formerly been clasped safely in his hand, dangled sadly off the edge of the bed.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, sitting up hastily, her incredulity written all over her face.

"To find my family," answered Booth resolutely, storming out of the room without a glance back.

B&B

Rough hands threw the anthropologist into a metal chair so hard that it tipped back, resulting in her cracking her head against a concrete floor. Another basement? Pain radiated from the back of her skull, shooting daggers right behind her ears, nose, and eyes. A harsh, guttural shout whooshed from her lips and her eyes immediately began to water behind the cloth impeding her vision.

"Shut up." The gruff voice came from a few inches to her left and it sounded distinctly distracted as the owner of the voice set her chair right side up again. Squinting uselessly against her blindfold, she turned her head toward him and frowned.

"Will you please take this blindfold off of me? It's itching."

"I said _shut up,_" growled her captor, but he lumbered forward and ripped it off her eyes. "There. Now be silent."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan complied reluctantly, figuring it would be best to lull him into a false sense of security before pouncing. Sadly, she still hadn't quite worked out an escape plan yet, but she was sure it would come in time. Rolling her neck restlessly to loosen the tightness, she glanced at her surroundings, instantly taking in precariously stacked crates, rows of filling cabinets, and arbitrarily placed bins. A storage room, she figured. Where, she had no idea.

Her abductor had disappeared during her quiet inspection. The towering crates and cabinets divided the room into narrow aisles and he seemed to have shuffled over to the aisle next to hers. Peering through a crack in between two cabinets, she caught a glimpse of blonde hair…

"Parker," she breathed, leaning back in her chair. She had found him. Now to get them out…

B&B

"Hodgins, I need you to rewind the tape that was sent to us," commanded an out-of-breath Booth as he swiped his card and charged onto the platform.

"Yeah, sure," agreed the entomologist, appearing more subdued than ever as he brought up the film. Brennan was kind of like the mother hen of their family at the Jeffersonian and her absence was especially felt. "Here it is."

They watched it in silence, both working hard to try to discern something that they hadn't noticed before, but didn't glean any new knowledge by viewing it a second time.

"Damn it, I know that we're missing something, I can feel it in my gut. There's something not right about this video…" Booth frowned, squinting at the screen which had frozen on a shot of Brennan glaring at Hannah when the video ended. _Glaring? _"Hodgins, play it back!" demanded Booth, striding even closer to the screen, his eyes almost closed they were so squinted.

"Man, what are you looking fo-?"

"Shh!" He held up a silencing finger, leaning impossibly closer to the screen, a frown of concentration growing steadily on his face. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" asked Hodgins, moving closer to the screen as well, suddenly interested.

"_Seeley, help! They've got us—we're in a basement somewhere…_" Hannah's voice floated out of the speakers.

"_No, Booth! She's_-!" Brennan's panicked voice joined in, breaking off in a howl of pain.

"Pause the tape!" he directed him, pointing to the screen. "Look! Hannah's…she's shoving her…ouch, is that her heel into Bones' leg? Why would she…?"

"Look at Dr. B's face…" frowned Hodgins, scrunching his eyes. "Ouch, that look is like ice. I can feel it even through the video. I've never even seen her give that much of an evil eye to any of the interns. Even the time that they dropped that 700 year old skull…"

"What was Bones going to say?" muttered Booth to himself, scratching his chin distractedly. "And why did Hannah stop her? Why is Bones looking at her as if she could kill her if they're supposed to be friends? Why…?"

He broke off, the awful, appalling, heart-shattering truth exploding into his mind with the abruptness and intensity of a firework.

Hannah's manipulation to prevent Brennan from getting a word in during the video, Brennan's sudden disgust with her former friend and confidante, Hannah's strange calmness during his interview with him, her seeming inability to give him any concrete evidence to go off of, her perfect memory of what happened to her even though Cam couldn't remember anything, almost as if she had rehearsed a story to tell him…

"God fucking damn it!" he roared, leaping off the platform and pulling out his gun as he went.

B&B

You see? We finally get a glimpse of Parker and Hannah's treachery is revealed! That's gotta be a plus, right? If Hannah's not exterminated in the next update (Imightgocrazyifthisisthecase) she will certainly be gone by the following. Tell me what ya think! Thanks for reading (:


	17. Chapter 17

This story is going to be the death of me, swear to God.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

B&B

_Booth watched with a crooked smile as his partner entered the Checker Box with an expression of utter confusion and irritation adorning her face, her hands deep in the pockets of her jacket, her eyebrows knit together by her frown. One of the singers that he knew she liked, the one she had mentioned having such great projection, was performing, but she didn't seem to have noticed. Instead, she was glancing around warily, clearly trying to spot Booth and the rest of their party in the crowd. Her sharp eyes found them in seconds and she made her way toward them, looking more and more uncertain with each step._

"_What's going on?" she demanded in a soft, questioning voice as Booth jumped up from his seat to greet her. "Why did—you call me here, Booth?"_

_He spread his arms as if in invitation. "Your need to sing in front of a _live_ audience, it's _innate_, Bones._

_Her lips turned up slightly at the corners, revealing a certain level of horrified amusement. "No way."_

"_Hey, I got the music, the frivolity. What else do you need?" He raised his hands as he spoke, as if flailing his arms around would make his argument seem more plausible._

_The rest of the team, Cam, Zack, Angela, Hodgins, and Sweets, began applauding her, cheering her to take the stage._

"_Come on, Dr. Brennan, you can do it!" called Hodgins encouragingly, a wide grin evident upon his face as Angela whooped appreciatively. "We're here for you, we're here for you!"_

_Brennan struggled to contain her smile and shook her head disbelievingly, but it was clear that she was on her way to being convinced. Booth raised his eyebrows at her, but she didn't respond except to look at him with an expression that was hard to read._

"_You're very controlled, Dr. Brennan. I think it would be a good idea for you to let yourself go," nodded Sweets, setting a supportive hand on her shoulder._

"_Really? What about you?" she retorted, placing her hands on her hips._

"_Hey, I will be singing 'Lime in a Coconut' after you and you will be extremely impressed. As was my abnormal psychology class in college." He beamed happily. "This opportunity," he clapped a hand on the FBI Agent's shoulder congenially, "is a gift from…Agent Booth." He quickly dropped his hand at the look Booth bestowed upon him. "Trust yourself, trust your friends, and let 'er rip!"_

_Brennan face crumpled slightly as the nerves set in and she looked at Sweets as if begging him to save her from the situation she had gotten herself into. But all he did was grin as Booth took Brennan by the arm and led her up to the stage. When she reached the microphone, she shot Booth a look, her hands on her hips once again, and he just smiled back at her, already moving to the music. Rolling her eyes, and fighting the urge to laugh, she tore off her jacket and flung it aside, grabbing the microphone right when it was her cue to sing._

"I come home in the morning light, my mother says when you gonna live your life right? Oh mother dear, we're not the fortunate ones! But girls, they wanna have fun. Oh, girls just wanna have fun!"

_No one noticed as Pam stepped through the doors of the Checker Box, gazing around interestedly at all the commotion. Booth was busy cheering on his partner, flicking on his lighter and waving it from side to side worshipfully. Brennan was all smiles, singing her heart out. When a break occurred in the music, she took the opportunity to fling her hands up and jump around in a circle. Angela danced in her seat and Cam broke into fits of laughter, tickled at the image of the prim and professional Dr. Brennan letting loose in front of a live audience of people._

"The phone rings in the middle of the night, my father yells what you gonna do with your life? Oh, daddy dear, you know you're still number one, but girls, they wanna have fun. Oh, girls just wanna have—that's all they really want! Some fun!"

_All eyes were on Brennan, but suddenly, a tortured cry reached Booth's ears through the silvery, melodious sound of his partner's voice._

"_Seeley! Seeley!"_

_He turned around in his seat, nonplussed. His mouth hung open and his eyes widened in shock, but when she pulled a gun and leveled it at Brennan, he shot up from his seat, grabbing his own weapon as he went. Brennan was still singing, blissfully unaware of the scene unfolding right in front of her and Booth flew in front of her, determined to keep her safe, prevent her from getting hurt…_

"When the working day is done, girls they wanna have f—"

_The sound of the gunshot only rent the air for a moment, quick and clean, but he felt like he could still hear it ringing in his ears as he went down. He could vaguely hear people screaming and running, but that wasn't important. Where was Bones…_

_He found her as he collapsed. Or she found him, to be more accurate. She caught him before he could fall all the way down and guided his body to the floor. He watched helplessly, pain numbing all of his senses, as Bones' frightened face swam in front of his eyes. He didn't want her to be scared… But as abruptly as it had appeared, her face left his sight, only brown locks of her hair flashing into his line of vision. Another gunshot shattered in his ears and he panicked, wondering if his Bones had gotten hit. But it was like the panic was coming at him from across a huge ocean. It was dull, muted, as he lay there, dazed. His world was going black and he could no longer hear. The last thing he saw was the lovely but devastated face of his partner and best friend as she shook him, desperate to keep him there with her._

Booth paused next to his car for a second as the memory came unbidden into his mind. He couldn't put his finger on why this situation should pull that from his brain, but the memory had reminded him of how much his partner had done for him, saving his life, although she hadn't known it at the time. _I have to save her,_ he thought fiercely to himself, shaking his head to clear his brain of irrationality. He wouldn't be of any help to anybody if his actions were being fueled by hatred and pain. He needed to be cool and calm if he wanted to get his son and partner back. Sighing, he opened the door, laid his gun on the seat next to him, and started the engine while simultaneously flicking on his sirens. Moments later, he was barreling away from the Jeffersonian, off to save the ones he loved.

B&B

"Parker?" Brennan waited until their captor had disappeared before calling out in a hoarse voice. A frightened squeak answered her from the aisle over and she shifted in her chair, desperately trying to see his face, ensure that he was alright. "Parker, it's me, it's Bones."

"Bones?" asked his weak voice, sounding tearful and petrified.

"Yes. I'm right next to you, behind the crates. Are you okay?"

"I'm scared," he whimpered and she heard him dissolve into tears as he spoke.

"Oh, Parker," she moaned, a few tears slipping down her cheeks at the sound of his fearful sobbing. "It's okay. I won't let anybody get you."

"I know."

"Did they hurt you, Parker? Did they touch you at all? Mistreat you in any way?" Brennan's voice was desperate; she couldn't bear the thought of anyone abusing the little boy whom she loved so much.

"No," he whispered.

"Are you sure, Parker? What have they been doing since you've been here then?"

"Not much, that I can see. That—that man is usually in the other room while Hannah comes and talks to me." He sniffled.

"What does Hannah talk to you about, Park?" Her nails dug painfully into her palms as she curled her hands into fists.

"Nothing much. Just making sure I was okay."

"Did she ever treat you badly?" asked Brennan, brow furrowing.

"N-no."

"Okay," whispered Brennan, nodding to herself. "Do you know what they want?"

"No one ever told me. I asked, but they wouldn't say." He sniffled again. "I want m-my dad."

"I know," she whispered miserably, beginning to cry in earnest herself. At that moment, the only thing she cared about was getting to Parker and making him feel better, but there was no way for her to reach him. "I know, bud."

"Are you crying, Bones?" asked Parker in a startled voice. "It sounds like you're crying." Brennan didn't answer, but hiccupped delicately into her shoulder. "Please, don't cry, Bones."

"I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to be scared," she mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear her.

"I'm fine, Bones. I'm not crying anymore or anything." And he wasn't. He had immediately gained control of himself the moment he realized Brennan was upset, not wanting to distress her further. "If my dad were here, he'd be brave. I'm going to be brave too." He paused. "He's going to come and save us, right, Bones?"

"I don't know, Parker," admitted Brennan. "But I think he will. He always comes to the rescue, doesn't he?" Her quick mind remembered each of the instances in which he had saved her life within seconds and she couldn't help but feel confident that he would come this time too.

"Yeah."

"But you don't have to worry," said Brennan softly, "Because even if your father doesn't happen get us out of here, I _will._"

"How are ya gonna do that, Bones?" he asked interestedly, trying to peer around the crates, but to no avail.

"No idea," she muttered, her eyes tearing around the space surrounding her. All she could see were containers and containers of _stuff._ The filing cabinets were overflowing with papers and folders and the crates were filled to the brim with strange assortments of papers, tools, cleaning supplies, and other odds and ends. The bins were all snapped shut except for one in the far corner, which looked to be nearly empty. Twisting her neck around to see behind her, a vast, seemingly unorganized grouping of cardboard boxes came to her attention. Most of the boxes were firmly taped closed, but there were a few that were gaping open, their depths hidden by the cardboard flaps. "I wonder if…" she murmured to herself thoughtfully, frowning in concentration, "there is anything of use in those."

Chewing on her lip, she decided what needed to be done first. _Ropes_, she thought to herself, hands flexing automatically against the prickly material binding her wrists together. She could undoubtedly untie the knot with the right amount of time and space, but she didn't know how long it would be until their kidnapper returned and didn't want to risk being caught in the middle of undoing her bonds. _There's got to be a faster way._ She glanced towards the crates a few feet to her left, contemplating the tools she could clearly see in one of them. Sadly, that particular crate happened to be locked up tight. Sighing frustratedly, she turned her eyes toward the boxes behind her again. She had been tied soundly to the metal folding chair to impede her ability to escape so she could not simply get up and walk toward them, but she did find the strength to shove her feet against the ground, propelling the chair centimeters at a time across the filthy concrete floor with a dull scraping noise.

"What are you doing, Bones?" asked Parker with mingled curiosity and apprehension.

"Getting us out of here," grunted Brennan as she pushed off from the floor again. She was almost there… "Yes!" she congratulated herself as she reached the first box. Twisting and turning in her seat, she negotiated her body so that she was halfway facing the two boxes before her. Both were mercifully open. Quickly, she perused their contents. She found nothing of use in the first one, but to her utter astonishment, she only had to look for a few moments in the latter of the boxes to find a useful tool. Smiling triumphantly to herself, she got to work on finding a way to pick it up.

B&B

Booth slammed to a stop in front of the hospital, lurched out of his vehicle, and raced toward the building. Instead of waiting for the elevator, he hurtled up the stairs, making it to Hannah's hospital room in record time. Crashing through the door so hard that it banged against the wall behind it, he entered the room, skidding to a halt right in front of the bed. It was empty.

B&B

Angela pushed her cell phone into her pocket, her usually tanned face completely pale from the conversation she had just had with her husband.

"What's wrong?" asked Cam as she exited the bathroom.

She had dispensed with the hospital gown and was now wearing a fitted yet modest dress that she had worn to work before. Sweets had grabbed it from Cam's car hours earlier and dropped it off at the hospital for Angela to give to the pathologist when the time came for her to leave.

"You are never going to believe this," breathed Angela, attempting a smile, but managing more of a pained grimace.

"Believe what?" Cam sat down on the hospital bed facing Angela, giving her her full and undivided attention.

"It was Hannah," she finally revealed in a halting voice.

"What?" asked Cam patiently, certain she had misunderstood.

"_Hannah's_ the one who has been behind this. Hannah, Booth's girlfriend." Angela shook her head. "And to think we were all kind of _friends_ with her."

"That's—wow," gaped Cam, sagging slightly. "I can't—"

"I know," Angela agreed, nodding dejectedly. "God, I'll bet that's how she got Brennan. She thought of Hannah as one of her best friends, Brennan was probably trying to help her or something." Tears sparkled in Angela's eyes as she spoke.

"What are we—"

A knock cut across Cam's speech and the two women turned towards the door, gasping at the sight of Michelle standing on the threshold.

"Um. I'm sorry. May I come in?" she questioned, shuffling her feet slightly. "I don't mean to interrupt or anything…"

"Michelle!" greeted Cam in as warm a voice that she could manage considering the circumstances. "No, I'm so glad you're here. We were going to leave in a few minutes anyway. Just after we talk to the doctor one more time."

"Okay," nodded Michelle hesitantly, narrowing her eyes at the women in front of her. "What's going on?"

"Just a case," mumbled Cam, looking down and picking at an imaginary thread on the bottom of her dress.

"What kind of a case?"

"Look, I'll explain it to you when we get home, okay?" Cam sighed and laid back on the bed, closing her eyes for a moment, but Angela jumped to her feet.

"What do you mean, when you get home?" she demanded, crossing her arms. "You can't go home. You have to go back to the Jeffersonian. Booth says so."

Cam sat up again. "I don't follow orders from Booth," she argued with a tight smile that was completely devoid of any humor or happiness.

"I don't know, I wouldn't want to go against him right now. Besides, you've already been abducted and drugged one time, why would you risk that again?" inquired a very agitated Angela.

"Because I don't want Michelle to be alone," frowned Cam, folding her own arms across her chest.

"Well, gosh. Both of you can stay at the Jeffersonian, Cam, but we need to stick together right now."

"Fine," sighed Cam, standing and putting her arm around Michelle. "Let's get this show on the road.

B&B

"Slow down!" pleaded Hodgins as he jumped up front his chair and began prancing around his desk, rifling through papers to find the one he had just been perusing before Booth's call (he had promptly dropped it when Booth began hollering directly into his ear). "What did you say?"

"HANNAH IS GONE !" boomed Booth so loudly that Hodgins was forced to pull the phone away from his ear so as to avoid hearing loss.

"Hannah is gone…what?" asked Hodgins, unwilling to believe the truth. He was still searching for his dropped paper. "She wasn't at the hospital? No, that's—that's way too bad of luck. That sort of thing doesn't happen in real life." He chuckled in spite of himself and regretted it the instant the amused noise passed through his lips.

"DO I SOUND AMUSED?" bellowed Booth furiously and Hodgins winced, holding the phone gingerly between two of his fingers, keeping it at least two inches away from his face.

"No, Booth, you don't," he answered quietly, slumping into his chair. "Well, where is she now?" he asked worriedly.

"That would be why I'm calling you!" shouted Booth, but not as deafeningly as before.

"Right, sorry," muttered Hodgins, hopping to his feet and scrambling over to Angela's computer. "I'm tracking her cell phone now…"

"Thanks," said Booth shortly; Hodgins took Booth's attempt at civility as an apology for his abrasive behavior and smiled slightly. But suddenly he paused, eyes widening at the screen in front of him, unable to quite believe what he was seeing.

"Booth, you're not going to believe where she is right now…"

B&B

"I'm here," whispered Hannah, closing the door silently behind her and turning to face her glowering boss.

"Finally," he growled, standing and striding over to her. "Does he know that you're involved yet?"

"I'm not sure," replied Hannah quietly. "But he's sure to get suspicious when he finds out I left the hospital," she assured him in response to the dangerous look on his face.

"Well, you'd better hope he comes within the next hour," snarled the man nastily, taking a step closer to her.

"Yes, I'm sure he'll be here," she answered quickly, stumbling backward, away from him. As she tripped, she moved awkwardly, sending a sparking pain from the bullet wound in her side all the way up to the top of her head. "You know, I still don't understand why you had to shoot at me." She glanced reproachfully at him, frowning.

"I couldn't have you blowing your cover too early, now, could I?" Her face tightened, but she looked down, unwilling to argue the point further; he gave her a warning glance and turned away, moving to sit at a desk in the center of the room. "Check on them, would you?"

She nodded obsequiously and hastened toward the door, shoulders hunched defeatedly.

B&B

_Brennan screamed through the colored scarf that was being wedged between her teeth, struggling hopelessly against the bindings that tied her arms over her head. Her desperate movements depleted her remaining energy and she just about gave up after only a few minutes, breathing heavily through the cloth laying uncomfortably across her tongue. An ugly bruise had formed on her forehead from where Kenton had knocked her out with the gun and her wrists were getting chafed from the ropes tightly wound around them. The ravenous dogs continued to bark and snarl viciously all around her, sending goosebumps up her arms and raising the small hairs on the back of her neck._

"_They're not gonna find Hollings," declared Kenton from right behind her, finishing up tying her gag. "Uh uh. You know, he would slit their throat like they were cattle. Told me he used the key to unlock the soul behind their eyes. That is one sick bastard the world ain't gonna miss." He nodded once and, with an ominous look toward Brennan, pulled out a red pocketknife from his pocket._

"_I'm sorry. I really am," he said grimly, opening the blade and placing it above a broken brick. Brennan watched in horror as, without hesitation, he slammed a second brick against the top of the pocketknife's blade, effectively nicking the metal. "I'm not like him though," he hastened to assure her. "The things I have to do to you…you'll be gone first." He shook his head seriously. "You'll never know a thing."_

_Brennan privately felt that if he killed her first, it would become glaringly obvious to Booth or whoever was put on the case that Hollings had _not_ committed the murder. Not that she would tell Kenton that._

"_I never expected anyone to find out," continued Kenton as Brennan looked on fearfully, tears pooling in her eyes and each breath catching in her lungs and tearing loudly through her throat. He pulled out a gun and her eyes widened, silently begging him to grant her mercy. He raised the gun purposefully, moving it to aim right at the frozen anthropologist…_

"_Ahh!" Kenton yelled and collapsed as the bullet sank into his arm. Brennan glanced up at her rescuer, still wheezing heavily through the scarf rammed in her mouth. She couldn't really believe that she was alive and safe._

"_Alright, okay," muttered Booth, pulling the gag out of Brennan's mouth as she panted and sobbed as if she had had the wind knocked out of her. He tried to lift her from the metal pulley that was holding her with her hands above her head, but his broken ribs and fractured clavicle had greatly diminished his usually considerable strength. Instead, he put his head between the circle of her bound limbs, essentially putting her arms around his neck, and lifted her from the waist. He groaned in pain at the way he had to move to pick her up. She barely noticed the stiffness and discomfort in her arms from her prolonged hanging after he freed her, continuing to gasp in fright, but with less panic than before. The second Booth had gotten her down, she had tightened her grip around neck, wishing to be close to him as possible after such a life threatening experience. "Okay. Ah, it's okay. I'm right here. It's all over," he reassured her, still grunting in agony every few seconds. "Shh, I'm right here. Alright. It's all over. Shh, you're alright."_

"_How did you get out of the hospital?" she finally asked, noticing his pained moans._

"_Hodgins gave me…a ride. Maybe—maybe you could give me a ride back though, huh?" _

_She nodded, smiling, her arms still around his neck. He winced and hunched over in discomfort, but she hugged him, more grateful than she could imagine that he had saved her life. Never had she felt more alive._

Scowling in concentration, Brennan carved at the ropes around Parker's wrist with the metal nail file she had been lucky enough to find in the cardboard box. She couldn't think of a reason why a metal nail file would be stowed in a cardboard box in the middle of some storage room, but she wasn't about to question her own good fortune. She had released her own hands in no time at all considering the thickness of the ropes and hastened over to Parker to free him as well.

"How are we gonna get outta here, Bones?" asked Parker conversationally, trying hard not to fidget as Brennan cut. "You know, after you get me untied and everything."

"I'm not quite sure yet," she admitted, squeezing his wrist consolingly.

"Well, maybe we should make a plan," persisted Parker nervously, glancing at the door a few feet away. "Because I think someone is coming…"

Brennan had just enough time to jump to her feet, wielding the metal nail file threateningly, before the door to the room burst open and Hannah waltzed in, closing the door behind her. The moment she focused her eyes on Brennan, she froze, eyes widening in shock. Brennan, on the other hand, let out what sounded like some sort of a battle cry and launched herself at Hannah, tackling her and landing heavily across her torso. When Hannah howled in pain, clutching the area where she had been wounded by her own partner-in-crime, Brennan leapt to her feet and ran toward Parker again, attacking the ropes wound around his wrists with new vigor; she had to get Parker out of there before he got hurt.

She had only cut through a few more threads before Hannah was at her again, her arms around her neck, trying to choke her. Brennan coughed and gagged, trying to throw the woman off. After a few minutes of spluttering for air and struggling to loosen Hannah's grip across her windpipes, Brennan managed to buck the woman off of her back. Not wasting a moment, she spun around and punched Hannah square in the nose, smiling in satisfaction as Hannah fell backwards on her butt, clutching her nose and hissing in pain.

Brennan's feeling of victory was short-lived; Parker yelled out a warning, but before she could even look around, a pair of hands grabbed her from behind, cutting off her air supply much more effectively than Hannah had managed and causing her to gasp and wheeze, fighting for breath. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, slowly blotting out her vision as she choked, her lungs straining for oxygen, her throat screaming in protest…

Abruptly, she found herself lying face down on the ground, her vision cleared and her breath thankfully returned. Getting to her feet swiftly, she glanced around and saw the reason for her release: Booth had arrived and her attacker was now intent on incapacitating the new threat. Sighing in relief at Booth's presence, she made her way toward Parker again, knowing that Booth's son safety was the most important thing. As she hustled toward him, she passed Hannah lying dazed on the floor; it appeared that Booth had sent her flying when he came into the room, knocking the wind—and the sense—out of her. Deciding to take advantage of Hannah's weakened state, Brennan reached down and grabbed the gun that Hannah had clipped to her belt, shoving it in her own pocket as she began slicing at Parker's bonds yet again.

"Yes," Brennan whispered to herself as she finally cut through the last few threads of the rope, freeing Parker at last. Standing and smiling in momentary triumph, she looked up in alarm at the sound of Booth shouting as he was slammed violently against the wall. She watched as he slid down the wall, disoriented, and landed in a great heap on the ground, stars clearly winking in front of his eyes. The man who had thrown him, the same one who had kidnapped her and Parker, advanced on her instead, teeth bared, eyes gleaming wickedly. He pulled a gun smoothly from a holster on his hip, a look in his eyes that said he meant business. Brennan stood rooted to the spot as he leveled it at her, her mind wiped magically blank.

"Noo!" howled Parker, jumping up and latching his arms around Brennan's neck and his legs around her waist. "Don't hurt her!"

"Get down!" moaned Brennan, sagging under the young boy's weight, but unwilling to hold him up with her arms since she wanted him off of her and out of danger. "Parker, don't you understand? He'll kill you!"

"He can't hurt you," he sobbed, burying his face in Brennan's shoulder, his tears creating a wet spot on the material of her shirt.

"_Please_, Parker," she begged, tears glazing her own cheeks as she attempted to shake him off, but the kid was stubborn and wouldn't let go. "Please."

"Parker! Bones!" shouted Booth, clawing his way up the wall to get to his feet, but stumbling and falling again as he tried to walk. Copious amounts of blood slid down the back of his neck from the gash on the back of his head where he had scraped against the wall. "Parker…"

"Fine, I'll kill you both," barked the man and his hand tensed on his gun as he went to pull the trigger…

"No!" screamed Hannah, lurching up from the ground and leaping in front of them just as the gun went off.

She dropped like a rock, the blood draining out of her face even as it flowed from the fresh wound in her stomach. She clutched her hands over it, trying to keep the blood inside, but it just seeped through her fingers and dripped sickeningly on the concrete floor.

"Wha-?" said Brennan, finally dislodging Parker, who's body had gone completely slack in his shock, from around her neck. Glancing fleetingly at the woman dying on the ground, she decided the foremost issue at the moment was the man still holding a gun. With her instincts back on target, she whipped out the gun she had stolen from Hannah and shot the man at the same exact time as Booth; one bullet nailed him in the leg while the other sank into his shoulder.

Brennan waited for him to fall before making her way to the woman she had considered such a close friend. She fell to her knees at Hannah's side and flitted uselessly above her, looking for a way to save her but knowing there was none. Booth had also crawled over and was pressing his hands over Hannah's trying to staunch the flow of the blood, but to no avail.

"He said…he wouldn' hurt 'im," whispered Hannah through white lips. "I love the kid." Tears filled her wide eyes as she said this and neither Booth nor Brennan doubted her sincerity. She gasped several times, trying to speak, but blood was now gathering in her mouth and dribbling down her chin. Before she could voice whatever she had wanted to say, she bled out, her mouth still open as if fighting for the power of speech and a tear still drifting down the side of her face toward her hair.

B&B

Well, there you go. Hannah is gone! I'm not sure how you guys are going to respond to this because I didn't exactly punish Hannah too much, but I thought she at least deserved the chance to redeem herself. I don't know, tell me what you think!

By the way, sorry it took me so long to update. As you might have noticed, this chapter is pretty much the longest I have ever written! It kind of took me a while (; There's probably only one more chapter after this, I'm thinking.

PS. The reviews after the last chapter were awesome. Thank you so much!


	18. Chapter 18

Man, I am really sorry for how long it took me to update! The good news is that this is the last chapter so there will be no more late updates for this story! (; Hopefully, it is not too bad. I really struggled with this last chapter, mainly because...I suck at endings! Seriously, I just don't know what to say. So, I mean, the ending might be just a little bit lame. I tried to end it like it were a regular episode to some extent, but I might have failed miserably. I don't know, I guess you'll have to see for yourself!

PS. I reread the whole story in preparation for writing this chapter and gosh, I sure have a lot of mistakes! Sorry about that!

PPS. Most importantly, thanks so much to Alexsmom; honestly, this story would have probably never been finished without your encouragement and words of advice. I do not know what I would have done without your help (:

Disclaimer: Bones is not mine, and I'm thinking it probably never will be. Bummer.

B&B

Rain pounded the roof as Cam, Michelle, Angela, Hodgins, Sweets, and the interns sat silent and motionless in the lounge, all looking stricken. Each was bursting to ask questions, but didn't want to be the first to break the silence. Finally, Angela spoke, directing her gaze toward Cam.

"Why." She asked in such a flat tone that it hardly sounded like a question, but Cam understood.

"I'm not entirely sure," the pathologist sighed in response, her eyebrows furrowing. "Booth told me that he and Brennan interrogated Michael Benson. The man ultimately responsible for the death of Justin De Luca and the kidnapping of Parker, Brennan, and myself," she clarified at the inquiring expressions on everyone's faces. "Apparently, he had applied for a job at the FBI a couple of years ago, but was denied a position and blamed Booth for it. Benson had made inappropriate comments to Dr. Brennan when he had visited the FBI and Booth made a complaint, which contributed to the decision not to hire him. So for the past five years, he has been plotting his revenge." Cam shook her head exasperatedly. "Booth and Brennan didn't even recognize him; he's one of those guys that kind of blends in with the background."

Angela nodded, looking vaguely sick as she cradled her belly protectively. "But what about Hannah?"

"Hannah was in on it from the beginning, from what Booth says." She pursed her lips sympathetically. "Poor guy. The woman he latches onto in the attempt to get over the one he truly loves ends up being a giant crazy bitch intent on emotionally torturing him."

All eyes froze on her. Daisy's mouth was actually hanging open.

"Sorry," Cam shrugged as if to dismiss their disbelief at her blunt way of putting things. "But if you think about it, that's kind of exactly what happened."

"Have you been taking that pain medicine I picked up for you?" demanded Angela with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, it's kinda making my head swim," frowned Cam, looking around in confusion.

"Come here," chuckled Angela, steering her towards the stairs. "I'm going to get you a cup of coffee. That should help."

"Great," smiled Cam contentedly. "I need to pack up Justin De Luca's remains and send them to his parents, now that we've officially solved his murder."

"Good idea," nodded Angela smartly. "Why doesn't Daisy come and help you?" She winked at Daisy who had been less than her usual perky self since the death of her old roommate. "She can make sure everything is in order. No stray bones getting left out of the funeral box…"

B&B

"_Alright, there was this kid, uhh, junior year—"_

"_Okay, is this going to be another story where you _think_ you were humiliated, but you were actually were _not_?"_

"_Just listen to me," demanded Booth in a controlled voice, waving his hand emphatically. "This kid junior year—Harlen Kinney. He was one of those real weird, you know, looking kids. He had this big Adam's apple sticking out and he wore his dad's clothes to school. You know, with the whole stretchy belt around his waist." He gestured with his hands to signify a stretchy belt._

"_What's wrong with that?" asked Brennan, lifting a hand. "It's practical."_

"_You're not listening. He was one of those real superior types, always talking out of a thesaurus and one day he came up to me and a bunch of my buddies and he—he called us a bunch of philistines. You know what that means, right?" As if there was a chance she might not know._

"_Yeah," Brennan assured him, removing her hands from under her chin and waving the affirmative. "A philistine is a smug, ignorant person who is antagonistic toward higher thought and intelligence."_

"_Yeah, well, I didn't know what that meant, so I looked it up. I told Kinney, look, I'm not philistine, I'm Catholic."_

_Booth spoke with utmost seriousness, but his partner erupted into chuckles. "That's pretty close to humiliation," she conceded._

"_No, that's embarrassing. That's not the humiliating part."_

"_Oh," said Brennan with interest._

"_My buddy picked Kinney up and…dangled him over the stairway. You know, he begged and cried and everyone laughed." Booth looked ashamed._

"_How is this about you?" asked Brennan, uncomprehending._

"_I laughed," whispered Booth with an air of confessing something to a priest._

_Brennan shook her head and pursed her lips. "I don't understand."_

"_I could have stopped it. I could have stepped in and helped the kid out. Instead I—I didn't. I chose my side and it was the wrong side."_

"_So you were humiliated because you didn't…act like a hero?" There was laughter in her voice._

"_Fine, fine, you know what? I'm perfect. My life was perfect." He gestured agitatedly._

"_It's a good story, okay?" insisted Brennan, raising her own hands defensively. But then she seemed to rethink her words. "It's a bad one. Hmm, it's both I guess. I mean, I get it."_

"_Yeah?"_

_Brennan nodded, but then her eyes narrowed and her chin lifted. "What is that?"_

"_Nothing," replied Booth, quickly hiding an object in his hand and crossing his arms._

"_Well," sighed Brennan, "you evolved. And evolution is very impressive and that is definitely not nothing."_

_Booth revealed a Brainy smurf, holding it in front of her between his thumb and his finger. "This?"_

"_Did you bring that for me?" asked Brennan impatiently._

"_No."_

"Good_, because it's the wrong smurf!" answered Brennan immediately. "I liked Smurfette, that's Brainy Smurf."_

"_Well, Smurfette was stupid, shallow smurf who only had her looks." He leaned in even closer to her. "Look, you're better than Smurfette. You have your looks and a whole lot more."_

_Brennan was quiet for a moment, processing his words, before speaking in a softer tone. "You did bring that for me. To charm me in case I didn't find your humiliation story impressive, but I did."_

"_Aha," said Booth, wagging a finger at her, Brainy Smurf still in his hand. "So I _did_ impress you."_

"_That's what impressive means, dummy." She shook her head. "Such a philistine."_

"_Ahh, I tell you what. You can hold onto this and it will remind you how far I've come."_

_She plucked the smurf from his fingers and gazed down at it in examination, a smile curling up her lips. "I forgive you for snorting, Booth," she finally said._

"_Evolution is a long, long process. It takes hundreds of years."_

"_Thousands."_

"_Why do you have to always correct me?"_

"_To help you evolve," stated Brennan as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. They stared each other down for a moment as smiles grew on both of their faces. Brennan shook her head and thanked her lucky stars that she could be so awkward and socially inept around everyone else yet she could engage in a perfectly pleasant and clever banter with her partner. There was no one else she would rather be able to communicate with._

_B&B_

Booth sat limp in the armchair in front of his television, staring numbly at the corner as his brain reviewed everything that had occurred that day. By the time he had raced back to the hospital to detain Hannah, the sun had been set for hours and the moon had been high in the sky. After he had discovered that Hannah had disappeared without so much as a trace, he had argued momentarily with two members of hospital security (who had come after him for bursting into that part of the hospital in the middle of the night), jogged to his SUV, called Hodgins to demand a location, and sped off into the night.

The Hoover building. The goddamned Hoover building was where they had taken his son and his Bones. Even though it was only the storage facility and nowhere especially important that Hannah and Benson had kept them captive, he was still offended that two imposters could sneak their way into his domain while holding the people closest to his heart hostage without any of his colleagues noticing.

Booth shook his head disgustedly and fast-forwarded through his entrance to the storage area, his fight with Benson, Parker's insistence on shielding Brennan from Benson's vengeful fury, Hannah's last gurgling breaths as she died saving his son. It was still too fresh and painful to dwell upon. Instead, he allowed his brain to remember his passing a pair of handcuffs wordlessly to Bones and running to scoop Parker up into his arms. Other agents had come streaming in at that point as Brennan snapped the handcuffs over the feebly stirring Benson's wrists and Booth clutched joyfully at his son, sobbing unrestrainedly into his hair.

He jumped ahead again, recollecting on how he had handed Parker over to a tearful Rebecca and then watched from the observation room with Bones as another agent interrogated Benson. There had been no talk of lawyering up or refusing speak. Benson had immediately confessed to everything he had done, everything Hannah had done, and why. He remembered how he had felt the guilt claw its way up his throat as he listened to the man's story and thought about how none of his friends—his family—would have gotten hurt if he had never gotten involved with Hannah.

How could he have been so stupid? He was supposed to be a highly trained FBI Special Agent. And yet he had been completely taken in by a hot girl with blonde hair and a nice smile. _I had thought I was in love with her_, Booth reminded himself as his stomach plummeted sickeningly at the thought. _And she never loved me at all._

He wanted to be furious. Wanted to hate Hannah for what she did to him and his team. But all he could think about was the look in her eyes as she died saving his son's life. How could he hate her after doing something like that?

Confusion and uncertainty washed over him as he sat there, silent and still, trying desperately to come to grips with what had happened that day.

_The question is, _he wondered to himself, _did I ever _actually_ love her?_ He pondered the question with the utmost seriousness for a full ten minutes before coming to a conclusion. _No. I was infatuated with her. I was infatuated with the idea of getting over Bones and finding love with someone else._ He shook his head dismally._ How could I have been so damn stupid?_

_Bones, _answered an honest voice in Booth's head. A voice that he usually tried very hard to keep silent. _Bones makes you stupid. This is what happens when you ignore your own feelings. Your heart and your brain are connected; when you try shut out your heart, your brain gets sidelined too. And then what are you thinking with? That's why you and Bones work so well…the heart and the brain put together._

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes with such firmness that stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. Whenever he felt out of sorts like he did now, he usually talked to Bones about it. But he couldn't talk to her now. Except…

For a few seconds, he pressed his lips tightly together, trying to come up with a good reason as for _why_ he couldn't talk to Bones about it. But he simply couldn't think of one and after only another moment of indecision, he jumped to his feet, yanked on his jacket, and strode from the apartment.

B&B

"_How's that salad?" asked Booth through a mouth full of food._

"_There are many health benefits to being a vegetarian," stated Brennan, fork in hand. "It's a rational choice in a world where food supplies are affected by global warming issues." She waved the fork distractedly._

"_What about global taste issues?"_

"_Is that meat sweet, rich, super lean, and soft?" asked Brennan in a sly tone._

_Booth dropped his burger with a loud _thunk. _"What? Does it taste like horse meat?"_

"_Maybe you should consider going vegetarian too," smiled Brennan._

"_I didn't lose my appetite because you mentioned horse meat. I lost my appetite because you made me think about all those people parading around pretending to be something they aren't just so they could have _crappysex_." He spoke with a superior sort of tilt to his lips as if he knew she would argue but also knew that any attempt at disagreement would be futile because he was simply _right.

"_How do you know it's crappy?" she ventured to ask, but she looked down as she spoke as if she knew all along that she was walking into a debate that she had no ability to win._

"_It's gotta be, Bones, come on, it's gotta be!" He looked outraged at the very thought that it _wouldn't _be crappy._

"_Why?"_

_Booth stared at her for a moment, clearly thinking hard, before leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. "Why? I'll tell you why. Here we are. All of us, basically all alone. Separate creatures just circling each other, all searching for that slightest hint of a real connection. Some look in the wrong places, some they just give up hope because in their mind their thinking 'oh, there's nobody out there for me.' But all of us, we keep trying over and over again. Why? Because every once in a while…every once in a while, two people meet and there's that spark. And yes, Bones, he's handsome and she's beautiful and maybe that's all they see at first. But making love…_making love_…that's when two people become one."_

_Brennan, who had been listening attentively throughout his entire speech, barely blinking as she watched him speak with such conviction, answered as if she couldn't control her need to correct him. "It is scientifically impossible for two objects to occupy the same space."_

"_Yeah, but what's important is we try. And when we do it right, we get close," he said with such finality in his tone that she didn't dare disbelieve him._

"_To what? Breaking the laws of physics?" She spoke with a cynical edge to her tone, but she didn't put a lot of effort into the facade._

"_Yeah, Bones. A miracle." He sighed. "Those people and their roleplaying and their fetishes and their little sex games, it's crappy sex. At least compared to the real thing." He grinned._

"_You're right."_

"_Yeah, but, I—" Booth cut himself off after a look from his partner and thought about what had just been said. A small chuckle burst through his lips. "Wait a second, I just won that argument?" He pointed between them as if to make sure they were talking about the same thing._

"_Yup."_

_Shock and delight sparkled in Booth's eyes at her answer and he sat up straighter in his seat, nodding his head at her. She smiled vaguely at him and he smiled back, content that he had finally gotten through to her while she sat quietly, hoping that everything he said was true._

_B&B_

Brennan sat on her heels in front of the bathtub, still fully clothed, still severely shaken. One of her hands floated pointlessly atop the hot water, growing puckered and wrinkled from its long exposure to moisture. She had drawn herself a bath with the thought that it would soothe her many bruises and aches as well as relax her frantic and confused mind. But she only got as far as filling the tub up before being overcome with exhaustion. She now didn't even have enough energy to drain the water and walk back to her bedroom for what would probably be a fitful and restless night's sleep.

She didn't want to think. For just about the first time in her life, she wanted to turn her brain off, stare blankly at the wall, and do absolutely nothing. She was doing a pretty good job so far; every time a thought began to enter her mind, she would immediately banish it, focusing instead on her hand resting on the water. A loud buzzing had started to build up in her ears, but she didn't mind it; it helped drive away any emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface.

Her heels were going numb and her knees were getting sore from their prolonged contact with the hard ground when her doorbell rang. She neither blinked nor made any move to get up and answer it. In fact, she was so far into her self-instigated stupor that she hardly even realized when a familiar pair of hands gently took her elbows and hauled her to her feet. Gazing blearily into the Booth's face, she finally understood that she was no longer alone. She didn't know how to feel about that, but she didn't have time to ponder it because she was swaying unsteadily on her feet and it was taking all of her brainpower to keep from pitching backwards into the filled bathtub.

"Geez, Bones, are you drunk or something?"

It took her a few moments to process the question, but she eventually shook her head no.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked, but he didn't sound angry, he sounded concerned. Feeling exceedingly nervous about Bones suddenly docile disposition, Booth led her out of the bathroom and into the living room. He sat down on the couch, but she just stood on wobbly legs until Booth put out a hand to push her into her seat.

It was then that Bones' fire seemed to reappear. She whipped her head around to glare ferociously at him, swatting his hand away with vigor. He looked up at her with a wounded expression on his face, but she drew herself up to her full height and swelled up with indignation, steam just about pouring from her ears.

"_Get the hell out of my apartment."_

"W-what?" stuttered Booth, taken aback by the abrupt change in her temperament over the course of four seconds.

"You heard me, Booth. Get away from me. Now." Her eyes were sparkling dangerously and she had bright pink patches high up on her cheekbones.

"But…why—"

"Because I hate you! Because I never want to see you again! Because…because…" A dry sob wracked through her body and Booth leapt up to comfort her, but she took a giant step away from him. "N-n-no. You didn't want me just a couple of days ago. Y-you didn't want to talk to me or laugh with me or spend any more time with me than you h-had to. It's been months since w-we've drunk beers together or argued about religion or shared a m-meaningful conversation. I g-g-get it, Booth. I do."

"Bones—" he tried to interject, reaching out for her once again, but she kept retreating from his touch, backing towards the wall. "Please. I know I've messed up. I _know_ that. That's why I came here—to talk to you."

A high-pitched, borderline maniacal laugh escaped from Brennan's lips, filling the room with the sound of her harsh, sarcastic amusement. "Oh, I see. I understand. Now that Hannah obviously hasn't worked out, you want to run to me again? Are you _kidding?_"

"No, Bones, it's not like that—" Booth hurried to explain, but she was speaking again, looking ready to spit fire.

"Don't you tell me it's not like that, Booth. Did you think you could just get me whenever you felt like it? Were you really just going to take it for granted that I would _wait_ for you?"

"It's only been like two days…" Booth responded, but it was the wrong thing to say.

"You said you loved her! You said she wasn't a consolation prize! God damn it, Booth, you wouldn't give me the time of year when you were with her but now that you know she's a—she's a—_monster, _you think you can just _march in here_ and _claim me as yours_. I don't _think_ so."

Booth, who had bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood in order to keep from laughing when she started talking about "giving people the time of year," instantly sobered at the reminder of what Hannah had done.

"Sh-she _took _Parker, she helped _kill_ another innocent little boy. She used _all_ of us."

"I know what she did, Bones," said Booth quietly.

"_Your girlfriend_ is the one that did all of this," she shouted accusingly, pointing a finger at him to emphasize her argument. "You brought her here, you introduced her to your son, you integrated her into our tightknit community at the Jeffersonian…"

Booth, who was struggling not to begin yelling himself at the unfairness of the things she said, nodded calmly, trying to ignore the pang of guilt that poked him in the gut.

"I can't believe how _stupid_ you were, taking her to the diner, and telling her about our cases, and sharing some of your secrets…" A crease had appeared in her forehead from what he could see through her bangs and he suddenly understood that it wasn't him that he was mad at, it was _herself._ She was feeling guilty and had decided to project that guilt onto someone she trusted, namely him.

"It's okay. Come here," he insisted, walking towards her again with both of his arms outstretched. She tried to move away again, but found that she had reached the wall and didn't really have anywhere to go. "Come here," he repeated, putting his arms around her in a tight embrace, but she squirmed and wriggled, breaking free almost instantly.

"_Get off, I hate you, I hate you,"_ she sobbed, slapping her hands against his chest, pummeling every inch of him that she could reach until he locked his arms around her again and she fell limp against his chest, dissolving into tears.

"It's not your fault," he assured her in a soft voice, stroking her hair gently while she stained his shirt with her hot tears. He kept repeating it over and over again until her crying ceased and she only hiccupped miserably into his shoulder, her face buried in his neck.

After a while, she glanced up. "I hate crying."

"I know," responded Booth, repressing a chuckle.

"You have made me cry _so_ many times within the past few days," she grumbled, stomping her foot petulantly and the look on her face was so inexpressibly adorable that Booth couldn't resist; he spread his hand across the small of her back and pulled her into him so that their knees and hips knocked against each other. Then, as his deep affection for her grabbed hold of his heart, he leaned into her, his lips passing so close to hers that she nearly felt the air stir past her mouth. But before he could actually close the distance between them, reason caught up with his senses and he pulled away, figuring that Brennan would probably murder him on the spot for kissing her without permission.

"Huh?" blinked Brennan, staring dazedly at his lips with her head crooked to the side. "That's it? Are you serious?" Her eyes flashed to his in disapproval.

"W-what?" asked a flummoxed Booth, his forehead creasing in confusion.

Sighing in either exasperation or anticipation, Brennan stood on her tiptoes, swung an arm around Booth's neck, and kissed him slowly and sweetly. For a moment, Booth was frozen, either in shock at Brennan's actions or disbelief that he was finally, _finally_ getting to kiss his Bones, but after a few heartbeats, he crushed his lips even harder against hers, tugging her impossibly closer as he did so. Then, their kiss became frantic; his hands were pressing on her hips, her fingers were in his hair, his tongue was dancing with hers…

His phone rang.

He broke away, breathing heavily as he reached into his pocket for the device. He never took his eyes off Brennan. "Booth," he rasped as he answered the call. "Rebecca, hey. How's Parker?" As he spoke with his ex-girlfriend, his eyes continued to trace over Brennan, taking note of her mussed hair, overly bright eyes, and red, swollen lips. God, she was beautiful.

Brennan was uncomfortably aware of Booth's gaze on her throughout the phone call. She wished she had the ability to look at the expression on his face and simply know how he was feeling, but she had never been very good at that. What if he was regretting the kiss? He had sure been quick to answer that phone call…

She was so focused on the way that he had been staring at her that she didn't even notice that he had finished the call and was speaking to her in a warm, quiet voice.

"Are you okay, Bones?" She nodded mutely, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Okay…" he replied as if he wasn't sure whether he believed her or not. "That was Rebecca. She's still pissed, but not as angry as before, I don't think. She's going to let us have Parker for a few hours tomorrow."

"Us?" mouthed Brennan, incapable of speech due to the mind-blowing kiss she had just shared with her partner and her nervousness about his reaction to it.

"Of course," he smiled, eyes twinkling at her. "Parker's been badgering Rebecca about seeing you ever since he got home. And I can tell you from personal experience that when my kid really puts his mind to it, he can get anyone to do anything for him. I suspect it's the old Booth charm, honestly," he beamed, winking.

Brennan giggled and smiled in spite of herself. It seemed like things were going well so far…

"Go to sleep, Bones," he urged her, nudging her towards her bedroom. "You've got to be exhausted. I know I am. It's been days since either of us has slept properly." He pushed her gently again and she obeyed, her eyelids slipping half closed as if she had just remembered how tired she was as well. "I'll lock the door after myself. Sweet dreams. I'll see you in the morning." He kissed her swiftly on the forehead and left her apartment, leaving Brennan to wonder whether it had all been a dream.

B&B

"Angela?"

"What's the matter, sweetie?" groaned Angela, sitting up with difficulty; she wasn't quite used to lugging around a bunch of extra weight yet.

"I need to talk to you," answered Brennan, whispering into the phone as though she didn't want anyone to overhear even though she was the only one in her apartment.

"Well, you're talking to me," sighed Angela, not feeling especially chipper, having been woken up in the middle of the night. "What's wrong?"

"Can you come over?" asked Brennan and there was just enough of a plea in her voice to make Angela agree immediately. "Thank you," murmured the anthropologist.

"Any time, sweetie. I love you, Bren."

"Love you too, Ange."

For the second time in less than a week, Angela found herself staring at a red light and willing it to turn green so that she could check on her best friend. It was no surprise to Angela that Brennan had called her. She had just gone through a dreadful ordeal and would certainly need a friend to support her while she processed everything that had happened. Angela just didn't understand why Brennan hadn't called Booth instead of her…

Angela arrived at Brennan's apartment in record time and rapped her knuckles gently against the door. The door swung open almost before she had even finished knocking and in a matter of seconds, Angela found herself sitting on the couch with a cup of tea cradled in her hands.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she quipped conversationally when Brennan seemed reluctant to talk.

"Of course, Ange. Sleep is an essential aspect to—"

"I was just saying because you haven't slept in like a zillion hours and yet you're calling me over here in the middle of the night for a cup of tea," cut in Angela lightly.

"Angela, it most certainly has _not _been a zillion hours, that would be quite imposs—"

"Sweetie. What's going on?" Angela's eyes bored into Brennan's with frightening intensity until the anthropologist finally looked down and bit her lip, defeated.

"Booth was here earlier…" she began uncertainly and Angela nodded encouragingly. "I got…really angry. I hit him," she elaborated in a small voice. The forensic artist pressed her lips tightly together to keep from giggling. "And then…I kissed him."

"You _WHAT?_" squealed Angela, jumping into the air and flying at Brennan in excitement. "Are you being serious, Brennan? You really did?"

"I'm always serious, Ange," said Brennan, her brow furrowing.

"You _did_? You kissed him then? Oh, _sweetie!_" Even with all the extra weight she was carrying around, Angela managed to flounce to Brennan and pull her into a very tight and painful hug.

"_Ouch_, Angela, that hurts!"

"Sorry, Bren," Angela grinned, releasing her best friend and perching in front of her on the edge of the coffee table. "Well, that's great! But you know you could have probably told me that over the phone."

"But that's not all I wanted to talk to you about," frowned Brennan, giving Angela a reproachful glance.

"Then what?" inquired Angela, smiling kindly down at the nervous woman.

"I just—I don't know what it means," she admitted in a whisper.

"What what means? The kiss?"

Brennan nodded, staring resolutely at the floor.

"Well, did he kiss you back?"

"Yes, of course."

Angela chuckled quietly for a moment before answering. "So that obviously means that he has feelings for you."

"There is no quantifiable evidence of that." Her tone was completely serious and she was gazing at Angela with utmost earnestness.

Angela sighed exasperatedly. "Okay, Brennan. Why do you usually kiss men?"

"Because I want to have sex with them."

"O-kay. Why else?"

Brennan looked confused, as if she didn't have another answer to give.

"Dear God," muttered Angela, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. "Right, I forgot who I was talking to for a minute there. Look, Bren, don't think about why you would kiss just any man. Think about why you kissed Booth."

"I don't know."

"Oh, yes you do. Don't give me that. Think about it for a second. It will come to you."

Brennan looked up at her with big blue eyes. It didn't look to Angela that she was even thinking of a response, but she answered after a moment. "I do feel sexually attracted to him," began Brennan, and Angela resisted banging her head against the wall. "However, there seems to be more to it than that. I genuinely care for Booth and I find that…as much time as I spend with him, I would like to spend even more. To be with him all the time, even. Additionally, I do regard him in very high esteem. The way he understands everyone he talks to, the way he tries to help people, the way he takes care of _me_. I simply cannot imagine him not being a part of my life. Even when I went to Maluku, I still knew in the back of my mind that he would still be there for me if I needed him."

Angela, whose frustration had quite vanished as Brennan's explanation went on, was beaming proudly at the anthropologist. "Wow, sweetie. I think that was a wonderful way of putting it."

"But I don't understand its relevance to my original concern," stated Brennan seriously.

"Well, he feels the same way about you, Bren," chuckled Angela, endeared by her best friend's cluelessness.

"No, there's still no evidence of that, Ange!"

Angela sighed. "Look, hon. Let's be rational about this. Does it really matter to you what the kiss means? Or does it only matter that it happened?"

There was a beat while Brennan thought about this. "You're right," she finally replied in a strong voice. "It doesn't matter. Not right now, at least."

"Good girl!" grinned Angela, gripping Brennan's hand in her own.

"I've made my feelings clear. The ball's in his field now."

"Court, sweetie. The ball's in his _court." _Brennan smiled but didn't bother with an answer. "Now, Bren, it's becoming kind of a problem that you always call me or ask me to come over to talk but then require some severe wheedling to even _say_ anything. I mean, I love you and all, but this could have gone _way_ smoother."

B&B

The sun was high in the sky and a crisp, cool wind was whipping through the air when Brennan met Booth and Parker at the diner the next afternoon. Father and son were already sitting at a table next to a window, Parker talking a mile a minute while Booth listened with an amused smile on his face. He jumped to his feet when he noticed Brennan hovering a few feet away, appearing very unsure of what to do.

"Bones!" shouted Booth delightedly. "Come sit!"

"Sit next to me, Bones!" commanded Parker, pointing at the seat beside him. "Please!" he added at a look from his father.

She looked at Booth uncertainly, but when he nodded in encouragement, she settled herself next to Parker, taking off her jacket and slinging it across the back of her chair. "How are you, Parker?"

"Oh, I'm great, Bones." He nodded seriously. "You believe me, right? Every time I say that to mom or dad, they don't believe me. But I really am."

"I believe you, Parker," smiled Brennan, glancing up at Booth who was looking doubtfully at his son. "But I think the reason your parents are hesitant to believe that you are doing fine is that you were kidnapped and held captive by a stranger and the woman your father was meant to be dating. And then you were almost shot, but the same woman who helped kidnap you then died for you instead. Most people don't get over such distressing situations so easily."

Booth shot Brennan a reproachful look, as if reminding Parker of everything that had happened would push him over the edge, but Brennan never even noticed.

"Well, I'm pretty tough," pointed out Parker, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. "Besides, it wasn't so bad."

"Why do you say that?" asked Brennan and Booth in unison.

"Hannah was nice to me. She wouldn't the other man hurt me or even talk to me much. I-I was pretty sad when Hannah got shot, but she did it for a good reason, right?"

"Yeah, bub," said Booth softly. "She did it for a very good reason. I don't think he understands that Hannah is dead yet," murmured Booth to Brennan, just quietly enough so that Parker couldn't hear. "We'll see how he is when the truth finally sinks in."

"I-I find this very confusing also," admitted Brennan, twisting her hands anxiously in her lap. "Her betrayal—the fact that she tried to hurt you—it makes me want to hate her memory. But…she saved Parker. So now I just don't know what to feel." She gazed hopelessly up at Booth, clearly expecting him to come up with a brilliant answer to settle her mind.

"Look, Bones," he said after a moment of deep thought. This, of course, was the question that he himself had been struggling with and so he had no good answer to give, but he took his best shot at assuaging Bones's pain. "It's in the past now, right? We don't have to dwell on it or try to figure out how to feel because it's over."

"That's rational…" muttered Brennan tentatively.

"Of course it is! That's me, Mr. Rationality." Booth grinned cheekily. "Now, where's our food? I hope you don't mind, Bones, but I ordered a salad for you just before you arrived."

"Thanks," she smiled appreciatively, picking up her fork just as their food arrived.

"Welcome," he responded. "Ah, my head!" he groaned, wincing as he jerked suddenly in his excitement to begin on his food. "I woke up this morning and I felt like it had been cleaved in two!"

"Your head can't have felt that way because it _wasn't _cleaved in two."

"It's just a figure of speech, Bones. All I'm sayin' is that I am in _pain, _serious _pain._" He could feel an argument coming on and welcomed it gladly. Arguing with Bones was a part of his normal routine and he had to admit that he had missed it over the past couple of days.

"Oh, you wimp," snorted Brennan, cutting off his train of thought.

"Are you serious Bones? I was _thrown into a wall_. My head was just about _cracked open_. And you're gonna call me a wimp?" asked Booth indignantly.

"I believe I just did…"

"Plus _someone_ pretty much _attacked _me last night, which makes me kinda sore." He glared pointedly at her.

Parker Booth grinned, his eyes flashing back and forth between the comfortably bickering pair. He was too used to their teasing repartee to find anything but humor in it.

"I was conked on the head and then held hostage for hours at a time and then almost throttled twice. And yet you don't see me complaining," pointed out Brennan in an even voice. Even as she spoke, she felt the last vestiges of discomfort over their situation slip away. As long as she and Booth were solid, it didn't matter what the kiss meant. They could figure that out later.

"It sounds like you're complaining right now..." disagreed Booth.

"No, Booth, I am only stating facts…"

"Sounds like complaining to me."

"No…"

"Yes…"

B&B

Soo this probably wasn't exactly in character, but it was the best that I could do considering my lack of an ability to write endings to stories. I hope it wasn't too terrible!

Thank you so much for reading this story. Honestly, this was such a lovely journey for me, writing my first piece of fanfiction and I am so grateful for all of you to come along for the ride. Thank you, thank you(:


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